Campaign Devil You Know: Campaign to SJC Held Myrkr (Myrkr, Velmor, Orleon, Azure, Katarr)

[Thirdas Heavenshield]

​

Enter Hell City
Allies: Kyra Perl
Enemies: Lark
Lost love: Nida Perl

As their ship came in for a landing inside the city of Hyllyard, Thirdas had entered tactical mode; surveying the area, looking for troop movements both friendly and otherwise, calculating the most strategic location to focus your defense. Even though he did not come to this place as that same lieutenant of the Antarian Rangers, he could not ignore his training. This world was under siege, and if they could help defend the city as well as retrieve Nida, all the better.

His tactical scan of the area ceased as soon as that familiar, yet terrifying, feeling struck him like a hammer on an anvil, ringing in his head.

"I know," he said in a grim timbre. He could feel her too, though he could not explain it. His body tensed up, afraid of what they would discover. Nida had been a captive of the Sith for months. Would they even recognise her?

Before stepping off the ship, Thirdas made sure to stock up on weapons and ammo. He also put on his mask; besides the tactial advantage it offered, it also provided a strange sense of comfort, believing Nida would not recognise him. A foolish notion, for how would she not sense him the way he sensed her?

A steady stream of civilians fleeing the approaching Sith forces ran past while he and Kyra attempted to make it farther into the city. A kid bumped into him, falling on his back and looking up at this hulking figure with no face, carrying a big gun. That same terrifying figure would then reach down to offer a hand.

"On your feet, soldier."

Pulling the boy off the ground, he turned and handed him over to his panicked parents so they may resume their evacuation. Thirdas then caught up to Kyra, finally breaking through the sea of refugees.

"We should do what we can to save the city," he added to their list of objectives. "As much as I want to find Nida, we can't just stand by and leave these people to their fates."

They'd be no better than the Sith, then.

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim-Ragal
Empress Regent of the Eternal Empire, Overlord of the Eternal Empire, the Emperor's hand
The Red Witch; Director of Blackwatch; Baroness of Vengard, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium​

Location: Vegemite Temple, Myrkr
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | 2x red blade lightsaber shoto | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | Shield talisman | G1 OmniLink | Empyrean gland | Taozin amulet
Space forces: 4/4 Adjudicator II-class Star Destroyer (under Thaelius 's command)
Ground forces: 2.000/2.000 Ultranauts | 2.000/2.000 Infinites (under Telis Taharin-Zambrano 's command)
Enemies: Finley Dawson

Background music:
Sabaton – Rise of Evil​

She handed over the army she had brought to the appropriate commanders as the fight in space began to intensify. It was time to join the ground fighting. That fighting style has always been closer to her than conducting space battles. Ingrid preferred to leave it to those who were better at it. She trusted her own people, if it hadn't been for that, she wouldn't have been worth going to the battlefield. Lord Telis has not answered yet, but she has not dealt with it now, the man will not escape from her today. At most, if he can do it if he dies here today, which she really hoped wouldn’t happen.

She immediately hurried from the bridge to the hangar, where the dropships had already set off for the planet. Also boarded one, which set off for the surface of the planet. To tell the truth, the trip was everything, just not pleasant. There were several close explosions, or they were just rubbed by a projectile. Fortunately, the pilot was very good, so they were able to avoid being hit. Many others, of course, were not so lucky. The Overlord felt the moment they entered the atmosphere because there was now air resistance to the ship as well.

Here too, the enemy continued to shoot at them, and here the dropship was no longer so lucky because it got hit. Because of this, they were also forced to change direction and not go where they were originally planned. They would have tried to keep it where most of the ground armies were, instead they came near the Jedi Temple. And from here they could only proceed with a fall. Ingrid called for the evacuation of those on the dropship who jumped out of the vehicle with a jetpack or parachute.

She directed the vehicle to the temple even at the penultimate moment, and then she jumped out too. Ingrid slowed down her fall with the Force and came down to the ground softly, silently, where she even rolled away for safety's sake to muffle her arrival. Behind her, the dropship slammed into the temple wall, and she was close to the main entrance at the moment, alone…

​

 

[Nica Dakkar]

Location: Ruins of Val Erides, Katarr
Objective: Plant flags and smile for the cameras.
Equipment: Heavy Blaster Pistol, Vibrocutlass, Service Dagger, Uniform
Writing With: Kaia Vullen

Nica was quite oblivious to the approaching Jedi, for despite her Force Sensitivity, she remained unaware, untrained, and (somehow) untested. Time and time again, Sith-Imperial officials had slipped up, despite her record of surviving even the most implausible of situations through luck alone.

She was not, however, oblivious to the dubious eyes (metaphorically speaking) of the Miraluka colonists.

Fortunately, they did not seem the kind to pull a blaster on her - now that would ruin her display!

"Fear not, the Imperial Mission will no doubt uplift you from these decrepit hovels once this sector is ours..." Nevermind the fact that Sith-Imperial prefabs were no more comfortable than Concordia prefabs. "... as well as run a test to see who is worthy of joining the Sith Order!"

Pausing dramatically, she hefted the vibrocutlass in the direction of an open spot - a park-cum-meeting place, by the looks of it - in the centre of the settlement. "Ensign Shaall? Bring the flag." As if in response, a small spherical droid hovered over to Nica, camera lense tracking her movements.

 

[Sakadi Marathi Sinvala]

Location: Thustra, Sinvala Estate.
Objective: Face the past.
Equipment: Lightsabers, Cosaint Bracers, standard equipment (Bio)

The heavy metal gate groaned under the telekinetic pressure, slowly swinging open as it battled against the unseen force. It was almost ironic, even. She had tried to break out of her childhood prison so many times, and now she had returned to do the exact opposite. Perhaps it was more than ironic. Perhaps it was truly a cruel twist of fate.

The gravel crunched under her feet as she approached the singular building on the grounds. Her gaze fell on the many flowers and small green bushes that decorated the garden. It surprised her how little it had changed over time. Her parents had always liked displaying their excessive wealth. That was why their minimalistic garden struck her as odd.

And the garden was not the only odd detail about her childhood home. Sakadi could sense the lingering darkness, the cold presence that settled in her parental house. Her expression grew bleak and harsh, an attempt to hide the underlying concern she had for her sister's life. Was it possible that Lirka Ka had sent a group ahead to kill potential political rivals? Was that why the Dark side was so strong here?

With a newfound determination, the Jedi Master swiftly ascended the steps that led to the main entrance of the building. Whatever was inside could not match her light, but that would not stop the dark presence from murdering her (dysfunctional) family. All she could hope for was that she had arrived in time.

Her concern and determination, however, were replaced by confusion the moment she opened the decorated door. The ears of the Master twitched as the music that echoed through the halls found its way to her.

Silently, she followed the entrancing music to its source. She recognized this particular piece. It was a song her parents had forced her to practice back in the day. With that in mind, could the pianist be... Maya?

The possibility alone made her tense. Tense enough to hesitate for a long moment and take a deep breath, before she dared enter the luxurious open living room.

Maya Bir Sinvala ​

 

[Nida Perl]

ALLIES | Lark
ENEMIES? | Kyra Perl | Thirdas Heavenshield

Something tugged at Nida’s senses, and her gaze turned skyward as if she were a puppet on a string. Her stomach stirred as a sensation that was once so calming made her anxious beyond compare.

Faint, but they were here.

Lark’s hand on her shoulder was of more comfort than he could imagine, and her shoulders involuntarily dropped their tension at his touch. Her one solace was that she was not alone, but Lark’s presence was equally a comfort as it was a worry. What would Myrkr do to him?

As much as she wanted to resist, Nida knew that they were fated to cross paths with her sister and estranged lover. The Force worked in mysterious ways, but Nida preferred a more transparent method.

His tired expression pulled at her sympathy. After transitioning to the Sith, Nida was surprised that her capacity for empathy had not diminished. It blurred and shifted at times, but the Zeltron still felt the same yearn for companionship and a sense of belonging that she’d felt among the Jedi. Lark—at least this version of him—was her only friend on the other side. She could not comprehend his pain, the agony of drifting to and from personas without knowing who you really are.

“If that happens, should I try and temper you?” Picking her words carefully, she wondered what Lark truly wanted. “Or let you do as you please.”

Pain suddenly scored across her stomach like lightning and Nida winced, shifting forward to caress her abdomen. It wasn’t the severity of the pain that had caused her to grimace so much as the abrupt nature of it. As quickly as it had come, it dissipated into a gentle, constant burn. Her fingers traced its path across her front until she realized where the sense of familiarity was coming from.

She remembered the knife, the feel as she punctured each layer of viscera, the expression of utter shock on his face.

“They are here.” Murmuring, she kept her eyes on the horizon. Through the haze of gunfire and stormtroopers, she could have sworn she spied a shock of red.

 

[Kathryn Foster]

​

Ship: T-77 Talon Stealth Interceptor
Wearing: Flightsuit
Personal weapon: LBP-3 Light Blaster Pistol
Location: Intercepting Sith landing party deployed by Darth Carnifex
Tags: Moon Seo-Yun, Gir Quee , ADM. Reshmar , Darth Carnifex , K Kaine Australis

With accustomary ease, Kathryn clicked through the cockpits display in front of her, quickly going through the pre-flight checks that she had so many times before. She was an experienced pilot that had seen and done most of the things a starfighter pilot could do. What she had yet to experience though, was to face the forces of The Sith Empire - a day that seemed to have now come to her. The voice of the Alor broke through the intercom, a last encouraging speech before the die was cast. The dice that would decide the future of the system.

''The best preparations have been made, and we are not just fighting for credits or for glory, we are fighting for our home and our freedom. We have the best weapons in the galaxy, and we have one another. Vode An, once more unto the breach, FOR MANDALORE!''

The surface of the temporary Silver Jedi base and the green hills of Myrkr was left behind, as she and her squadron of SJC allied T-77's launched and rushed for the skies. On the ground, the rumble of their engines slowly faded.

''Alright people, you heard him!'' Kathryn stated focused over their comms. ''Stay sharp and cover each others sixes! We're not here to disappoint the Silver's! We're here to kick those Sith scum out of the system and back to under whatever rock they came from! See you down on the ground!''

The squadron of black fighters was soon engulfed in the darkness of space as they left the planets atmosphere.

''Picking up multiple bogies heading towards the planet - probably troop transports! Let's give them a warm welcome!'' she transmitted over the comms and banked to the left, leading the squadron to intercept the possible landing party.

 

[Bartholomew Cain]

Myrkr. The planet of nullification and another slab of meat on the table for the Dark Side and the Empire. Or at least, they hoped.

How humorous that he would be brought here not a full year after joining its ranks and fighting - once again - to a position of relative power compared to most. Bartholomew Cain, clad in austere armored robes traced with a deep foggy blue, hissed a fanged hiss at his misfortune under his zeyd-cloth rebreather, approaching the city independent of those around him. The Sith charge. The Imperials charge. Bartholomew strides, calm and collected - if a touch frustrated at having to be here in the first place.

His orange-tinted eyes gaze up at the skyline of Hyllyard.

A city his allies seek to conquer. Defended by wardens of the Light and warriors of the Mandalore. Dozens of them dead and dying and fleeing, hundreds more fighting and commanding and charging. A battlefield of crumbling foundations and rising avengers ripe for the befouling of serenity.

Bolts of plasma and power cells whizz past his head as he marches into the city streets. Each one a succinct song sundered to a deafening and abrupt end. Some graze his face, clank against his armor, one even gashes his shoulder. But he marches on, whistling and muttering the tune of his brothers and sisters - the one Apostle Zal had told him when he was but a boy.

"Cold: the air and water flowing.
Hard: the land we call our home.
Push to keep the dark from coming,
Feel the weight of what we owe."​

The tune is a prelude to his own torrent of bolts that are supernovas compared to the songs. Each screaming blast ushers in orchestras of blistering catastrophonies not meant for mortal ears. And with each blast, his power gnaws at his fingertips, wanting to be unleashed rather than operate the weapon they hold in place. The gift of the Apostles is what it is. Coursing through his veins, powering every movement, every step. The power that wanes the second he enters the bubble of nullification, screaming as it fell into an iron cage.

"Noer, grant me your strength," he blasphemes under his breath as he guns down more defenders of this city, dodging and scrambling away from lightsabers and blasters. Blasphemes. He holds the gift, but not the title he reminds himself. The prestige is gone and moot by now. The gift is a curse really. Incapable of advancing now. Without stability. Bartholomew made sure of that yea-

The Light blinds his vision without warning, a squealing scorching sensation that envelops him blanket-like. It is angelic almost, the purest form he has ever been subject to. Even the Darkness within him feels - momentarily - drawn towards it. Seeking absolution. Then it vanishes and all that remains is a migraine, bleeding eyes, gritted teeth, and blurry vision. Droplets of tar-black run down his cheeks and stain his mask in silky rivers.

"Stop, villain! Your evil ends here!"

​

It is a sharp command and one that sounds vaguely...movie esque.

Villain. That's a new one.

"Excuse me?" the Grave Hand responds, turning his head to the source of the command, feeling out through the Force towards the radiance in the distance. As his vision clears, he sees that it was a woman that cried out. In High Galactic no less. Dressed in greens, an aura of sunlight surrounding her in an appalling chorus. An affront to the existence of Darkness. It makes him furious.

As the Cursed Wayfarer steps closer in growing frustration, finger pressing against the trigger of his blaster, he notes more details of his new quarry through the sheen of brightness. Namely that she looks more of a child than a woman as he had presumed.

Bartholomew stops fifteen or so feet from this conduit of the Light. His rage at suffering such blindness from one infinitely younger than he makes his rage even more palpable. But he does not have any desire to kill children today. Even if they are a Jedi.

"Go find the rest of your people, kid," he responds back in High Galactic. Fluent. Succinct. As if it was his native language. It is not. A thunderous explosion from somewhere in the city adds exclamation to his demand. "I'm fixing to kill people here, but I'm going to fight a child. Not willingly anyhow. So go. Run to safety, die in hiding. Doesn't matter to me. Just stay out of my way."

Auteme

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Behemoth II held its aggressive position in orbit above Myrkr, leveraging its considerable firepower to harass the defending fleet formations which listed near it. As the battle wore on, more and more ships jumped in-system to reinforce the gains made by the Sith-Imperial Armada. The totality of the ships jumping in to reinforce the Emperor's flagship were all pulled from the dreadnought's personal battlegroup, Black Iron, and was manned by the most suicidally zealous officers and crewmen that one could find in the Sith Empire.​

​

So as the defense fleet's guns began to train on the large dreadnought, those small destroyers and cruisers had no qualms when the order came down to maneuver their ship between the oncoming fire and the dreadnought. Shields were flipped on to maximum power on the side where they would effectively tank the Mandalorian volleys, with some of the smaller ships being destroyed as a consequence of their suicidal actions. Even manned starfighters had been directed to terminate themselves to soak up portions of the barrage, and the pilots had done so willingly. ​

​

Then the defensive screen parted, and the full firepower of the Sith dreadnought was set loose upon the offending Mandalorian vessels.​

Meanwhile, down on Myrkr. ​

​

The landing and advancing Blackblade forces were put under considerable strain by the spirited defense perpetrated by the Mandalorians of Myrkr, each inch of landing having been bought at a high price. Artillery bombardments churning up the advancing columns and forcing the Blackblades to disperse into smaller units to avoid being caught in a clump as the shells fell down on their heads. Their advanced training ensured that they did not crack under the strain, and their extensive bio-cybernetic enhancements made them more resilient to the sheer scale of ordnance being launched in their direction by several multitudes. Sith fighters shrieked above their heads, dogfighting with enemy starfighters or breaking off to strafe enemy artillery positions and the trenches dug around the shield perimeter.​

​

Occasionally, a Sith fighter would be mortally wounded in a dogfight. Rather than allow themselves an ignominious end, the pilots would endeavor to purposefully steer their vessels into the enemy formations. This style of suicide was prevalent in the forces accompanying the Emperor, each soldier and pilot more than eager to surrender their lives at their Emperor's behest.​

​

Armored units also accompanied the Blackblade infantry formations, typically of the many repulsorlift varieties employed by the Sith Empire but also of the treaded kind. Walkers were more than prevalent, often serving as the chief mechanism for escorting infantry units into battle and the heavily contested forest glades. The Sith were numerous as well, lending their considerable power in the Dark Side of the Force to tipping the scales of individual engagements in the Empire's favor, though just as many were cut down as those who succeeded against the Mandalorian menace.​

​

And none were as powerful in the Dark Side as the Sith Emperor.​

​

He walked slowly, his gait purposeful and without trepidation even as his faithful died in droves around him. Artillery shells which had been lobed in his direction suddenly found themselves detonating before they reached their target, or knocked so violently off course that they slammed into friendly formations nearby. Enemy starfighters that lined up to strafe his position found themselves bursting in spectacular explosions, their internal mechanisms seized by an invisible hand and torn out from the starfighter's chassis with combustive results. Enemy soldiers that arrayed themselves as obstacles in his path found their own grisly ends, their bodies swung about in the air like some grisly ragdoll, their limbs twisted and ripped, their armor crushed with themselves inside. Tanks suffered a similar fate.​

​

The Sith Emperor did not ignite his lightsaber once, he didn't even raise his hands to perform his monstrous wonders. He merely stared ahead and walked, like an unstoppable force of nature.​

​

K Kaine Australis | Coren Starchaser | Kathryn Foster

 

[Darth Prazutis]

It was within the eye of the storm that he came. A miasma of black, churning clouds and gale force winds manifested a hurricane over the surface unnatural to the worlds climate. It was when the clouds streaked with brilliant golden arcs of lightning, when they parted to reveal the glowing white golden rays that he came atop the monster. Galvanoth the Genocide was the King of the Skies, its crown of horns protruding from each golden head as the beast let loose a deafening roar. It was a sight shocking enough to stun warriors in their tracks to feast their eyes upon his beauty, gaze upon the golden scales of the majestic creature as he descended, wings delivered powerful blasts of heated air and arcs of lightning. The beast swept down to the surface and opened its three maws and out came annihilation given form in its pure, rays of golden light. All they touched died before its fury the ground beneath buckled from the sheer force, vegetation burned black by the awesome power of the concentrated lightning energy.

There was a malevolent intellect behind every move, a hatred the snarling behemoth held for the presence of life. It was instilled within the dominant alpha male from its very creation, nurtured at the hands of its black hearted master. The figure that sat astride the great winged terror and spurred it forward to kill and destroy, to burn the world black. A conqueror of the stars. A Death Lord that held life in the palm of his iron fisted gauntlet.

The Shadow Hand.

Caden Evesa ​

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Dueling: Mig Gred
Location: Outside the city in a pile of debris.
Gear: Personal armor, Judicator, KS-9 'Firestorm' Grenade x2, Sonic Imploder x2, Vibroknife x2

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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"ETA to landing 10 minutes." The pilot eased off the throttle as they broke through the atmosphere. To his right was Cara, operating a terminal to download various locations of units in need of the support they were carrying: field mechanics, energy cells, and tools required for repairing the war vehicles of the Empire's legions.

"We are 3.6 minutes behind schedule. Make up for it," Cara said in a frigid voice, displeased with the slow advancement on their target.

The pilot nodded as he raised a brow, "Making up for it," his hand returned to the throttle and engines growled as the transport's speed increased.

Cara deposited a datapad into the slot of a carrier case. A man beside her took it then attached it to a hardpoint of his armor before returning to the back of the ship's personnel cabin. Another behind him stepped up to receive a case, one of the dozen to take a personalized commission from the doctor. Once they landed they would have had their tasks assigned to them then take means to perform their duties. It was a system of regulation that Cara kept to the letter. Quick, straightforward, and efficient, as all things should be. At last they were putting the scalpel to a sore on the galaxy, a cluster of individuals who kept the worlds they visited as stagnant as they were. Too long had the Jedi continued to spread, submerging masses in complacency while remaining settled in their own priggish demeanors. Though a woman of science Cara's old faith still held a firm influence on her universe view, one which the Bakuran swore made more sense than any rhetoric about of the Force. The engineer cast a quick glance to the next mechanic in line before returning her attention to the terminal.

"For Mandalore."

The electric pulse shot through the nape of Cara's neck, the endpoint of her cybernetics and weak point. Prongs from the taser remained stuck in her flesh as she collapsed onto the console, her neck sparking as she slipped into unconsciousness then to the floor. The mechanic pulled out the wires from his gauntlet and quickly wrapped them about the pilot's neck.

A short cry of alarm was all the pilot could give before his voice was cut by the mechanic, a Mandalorian who had shrouded his past and worked alongside Cara from a distance. It was only until recently he had managed to climb the ranks and be chosen by her hand, now seizing the chance to purge a threat to his people. The pilot was subdued and the Mandalorian slammed the controls to the cabin doors, locking out those in the transport as he assumed control of navigation.

The engines were cut and the ship had begun to fall. The last things the Mandalorian heard were yelling of those in the back and a hollow groan as they pried the doors open.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________​

Little natural light found its way into wrecked cabin. Buttons flickered like stars. Exposed and fallen cables twined around one another like vines. For a quiet moment Cara peered confused, wondering when and why she'd fallen asleep in a forest. Pain was quick to remind her of the truth. Her breathing hitched as she tried to move, a dull feedback of energy in her spine seizing what few organic nerves she had remaining. She spat coarse words and slammed her fist into the floor. Slowly, laboriously, she pulled herself from under the corner of the console and to her seat. Hauling herself upward she slumped into the lopsided chair and gasped for a breath, her automated respiratory system thinking it was a perfect time to reset.

Cara closed her eyes, felt the silence that blanketed the transport, and meditated on her repairs.

 

[Caedyn Arenais]

Starship: "The Vagabond" Heavy Assault Cruiser.
NPC's: Vagabond Senior Officers.
Personal Inventory: Caedyn's Jedi robes, Armistice Lightsaber.
Reinforcing: Gir Quee , K Kaine Australis , ADM. Reshmar , Kathryn Foster
Hostiles: Moon Seo-Yun, Darth Carnifex , Taeli Raaf , Okkeus Dainlei

​

They had arrived, clearly with not a second more to spare as Caedyn Arenais looked out from the observation deck and immediately felt the influence of the Sith Empires most formidable combatants. While not familiar with the presence that emanated from the Sith Lady Taeli Raaf , both hers and the presence of the Emperor himself caused the Jedi Knight's heart to skip a beat, his throat feeling hollow for but a moment as he stared out across the size of the Fleet the Empire had brought to bare against Myrkr and anyone willing to stand against them.

From their entrance out of Hyperspace, the Vagabond Heavy Cruiser had appeared to the rear of the Behemoth II, still some distance out of firing range yet however he didn't doubt the Emperor's finest would overlook their arrival for long. Not with the way the Force seemed to reverberate within the Jedi Knight, a warning cry in what was to come.

"That's a Super Star Destroyer..." Tine Hender's exclaimed from the Helm as the crew looked out upon the Elidibus-class Super Star Dreadnought, the single vessel larger than anything else in orbit of Myrkr, or at least from where their limited line of sight could make out in their obscured position positioned.

"Tine, keep us out of reach of that thing" Captain Whayeson spoke up, quickly moving back to her chair following the initial shock of the sight; "We can't withstand a prolonged exchange with that ship without the rest of the fleet to back us up. Put us on the flank of the Sith Fleet in line to rendezvous with the rest of the defense force" The Vagabond had been designed to withstand significant force from hostile vessels, she herself was meant for independent patrols and capable of taking on several naval vessels simultaneously with what firepower they had aboard, yet they had their limits and that Super Star Destroyer far exceeded them.

"Hailing the alliance fleet of Myrkr" Gene Whayeson spoke up, seeking to reach out to the Silver Fleet, Mandalorian Forces and other allies who had come to their aid, "This is Captain Gene Whayeson of the Vagabond. We've arrived to the rear of the enemy fleet and are making our way around to you..." Gene raised her hand to signal to Ticia C'Heri to send their IFF codes away as previously instructed "Requesting immediate SITREP. Where do you need us".

All the while Caedyn Arenais stood at the front of the bridge watching the scene come into play, his arms crossed over his chest with hand hand brushing against his beard subconsciously, eyes fixated on the Super Star Destroyer between them and their friends.

 

[Mig Gred]

​

Dueling: Cara Dorniarn
Location: Outside the city, in the woods.
Units: 1st MIL Battalion "Netherhounds", 1st Armored Platoon "Wraith Division", Star Angles, Banshee Squadron (12 8-R Toscans), 2 Jai'galaar Bes'uliik
Gear: Lightsaber Trayc'kad, Echani Vibrosword given to him by Kat Decoria , Mandalorian amor, comms unit, Slick Anti-Acid Coat, Sith vibroknife, Nightbrother Fighting Knife, a pair of Taak'tabi, a pair of Hissing Ghosts

Mig looked around, hearing the battle starting to rage nearby before hearing and seeing something else. A Sith transport falling from the sky! He looked at Leddie Gred , the called to one of the Netherhounds.

“Let J3 loose now! I’ll take K0. Fora, get to that battle and see how we can help, I’m investigating that crash. Call it a hunch.” Ollen just went wide eyed before trying to stop him.

“But.... Mig! Shouldn’t you...?”

“I made you the commander for a reason. You’ll be ok.” And with that Mig was off to investigate what had just fallen out of the sky.

As he approached, the Force became muddled, and soon he couldn’t feel a thing. Dang tree hugging sap suckers! He just loved this planet. The Mandalorian kept trekking through before seeing the crashed ship. Definitely Sith now that he was close. Exactly how the ship crashed he wasn’t sure. Mig couldn’t see any plasma scoring, so it wasn’t fighters.

He walked closer. Maybe there were some of the conscripts that crashed with it. He could bring them home.... Or some dar’manda (not Mandalorian, something bad to be labeled) that he’d be ready to send to the Nether.

“Hey! Anyone here! Show yourself!”

Tags: WelshPsych K Kaine Australis Coren Starchaser Beltran Rarr Darth Carnifex Aristeia Zambrano Kytana

Fora lead the group as they push closer to the fighting. The Frontlines and Sluggers rolled within them, and the Reaper droids crawled around the outside. It was then that shots rang out, and Ollen saw a Jedi soldier fall. Poodoo! “Shots fires! Go! Go!” She pulled back her energy bow, letting loose an arrow towards where the shot came from.

Above, J3, a Shriek-Hawk Basilisk, spotted heavy targets like tanks and transports for the Frontlines and Sluggers to focus on. And from the air, the Banshees and Star Angles would soon fly in too, attempts to strike at heavy targets as well. This was going to be a war for them, but they had survived the hell of Wayland, and the Hounds were about to fight like they came from the Nether itself!

 

[Maya Bir Sinvala]

Location: Thustra, Sinvala Residence
Objective: Bury the past

Theme​

Her fingers plucked and danced across the keys in rhythm. She always loved this song, and playing it every time. She couldn't remember when exactly she learned to play this particular piece just that for as long as she could play piano she could play this song. Though she was finding it harder and harder to tell exactly when or how. The memories all seemed to just merge and blur into an indecipherable fog, hard to read and pluck notes out of at any particular moment of recall, instead it would only come at the odd moment when it could feel real again. Then it was vivid. The Estate though in a way served as a lifting of a veil that briefly allowed her to fully feel and the song she was playing was speaking to her all over again.

There was something about performing a song she loved, it was like having an imaginary friend that could talk back. One that reacted vividly to every inflection of her fingers, every twitch. It lived and breathed and every time she played even if the song was always the same each time always had it's own bit of life and variance in it. This one always evoked a small pit in her, one that she could cling to and understand, and in doing so elevated her. Though it was odd when she finally saw Sakadi play it. It always felt wrong, even though there was never a missed note, switching of octave that wasn't planned, or difference in the pressure used on the keys and that made the song all the more worse. It was like watching a robot perform, one that could mimic things perfectly but you could always tell the disconnect, the fact that it didn't understand or was never able to connect to it on a deeper level. It made everything feel so lifeless, and yet her parents always insisted that they liked Sakadi's performance more. Hacks.

Still that didn't matter now. The sensation of light was drawing nearer, giving a small burning sensation to that pit in her chest, one that felt like it was about to unravel and send a wave of razor wire cascading through her system, still she continued to play finding solace in the structure. As Sakadi walked in she would find that the piano and it's pianist had it's back turned towards her as she kept playing and the fire crackled in varying swathes of intensity. She in a way she relished it. There was going to be a witness to her pain, and if they tried to stop then they too could become part of the main event.

As Sakadi looked upon the arrangement of large couches and lounge chairs that sat upon a glassy finished, checker patterned black and white floor she would hear the song come to an end. Even as the large chandelier and expansive bar that would normally caught the attention of most people she had a feeling that all that opulent attention mongering wouldn't get in the way of the focus on her. With the closing keys pressed she stopped as she took the time to ease the fallboard down and covered the keys. Anticipation building up in her as she turned around to face this Jedi. It could have been anyone, from the most random and insignificant padawan to full on master and the unknown made her giddy. She turned around and saw it. A sephi staring back at her. Blue skin and when saw the face she felt her body freeze.

It. Was. Her.​

Was this a trick? Was her mind finally going mad? Was this the final stage in her losing touch with reality? Could she even trust her eyes anymore? This couldn't be right. She was gone, she had been out of her life for countless amounts of years. She only existed as this thing that lived in her memories, a reference she could never match to. Yet now she was looking at her. She shut her eyes and listened to her feelings, she felt the force move around and then she finally knew. It was really her, what was she doing here? Then she felt something claw up her spine and grip her neck a determination fueling her. She opened her eyes again a defiant spite lacing her pale face.

"Oh... It's you"​

Sakadi Marathi Sinvala

 

[Auteme]

Bartholomew Cain
​

Child.

Part of her wished that was the case. Her youth was a simpler time; mostly because she didn't understand what was going on. She'd spent that time away from the fighting, the galactic conflicts, the politics and the people of dubious morality. She could travel, help others, be kind without a care. Ignorance was bliss, but now she knew better.

She knew that the man before her was different from the Sith and their soldiers. Unlike the mass of Blackblade Guards and Sith Knights, the robed gunslinger seemed a deep pit of despair and evil. He'd made his intentions clear; even if he didn't intend to kill her. Her toes dug in, her stance strong.

"Never."

The moment of blinding light had caused the Sith troopers to pause, but as their vision recovered they raised their weapons to kill the young Jedi. With a wave of her hand a barrier appeared to block the first of the blaster bolts. The Antarian Rangers in the area returned fire, but Auteme found those sounds drowning out as her senses focused on the robed darksider.

The light emanating from her hand twisted and curved, solidifying into strands that reached forward to grasp the man. Splitting her focus between the barrier and the light shaping meant neither was as strong as it could've been, but the nature of Force light gave her a slight edge against her opponent.

 

[Gir Quee]

Ship: Gregale-class Heavy Fighter Drake Ten loaded with Starbolt Missiles, R8-series Astromech Droid, MAST sensor jammer turrets, and Dryas-class Artificial Intelligence
Onboard Equipment: Adar-class Combat Flight Suit; Dartfire Variable Charge Blaster Pistol;
Allies: SJO, Mandalorians, and friends
Enemies: Okkeus Dainlei (engaging) and TSE

Gir kept his fighter hovering around the edge of the engagement, watching as countless more ships from both sides emerged from the realm of hyperspace. Some entered the system clearly prepared with weapons online and shields at full strength, almost instantly firing the second the emerged. Others like him seemed to stumble into the battlefield, unaware of the fate cast upon them. The blonde man watched as an X-wing with oversized engine nacelles entered the battlefield. He observed it briefly for a second. Probably the personal craft of someone like me who got caught up in this surprise...He started to look away from that ship as he scanned for more possible threats. R8 suddenly let out a loud whistling which almost immediately preceded a flashing sections of blue green on his starboard shields as laser bolts smashed into his vessel's side. Instinctively, the blonde man pushed down hard with his left foot even as he rotated the control yoke to the right, sending the heavy fighter in a corkscrewing maneuver designed to evade enemy fire from a variety of directions.

"Who the hell is firing at us?"

The droid tootled some more and brought up a schematic of the Thunderstruck along with its location on his sensor readout.

"That X-wing? Whatever happened to the good guys flying that ship? You know what, don't tell me...let's keep his sensors jammed while I bring us about."

The droid whistled in acknowledgement. Under the wing of the Drake Ten, the ball mounts of the MASTs rotated, bringing directional sensor jammers online and pointed at the Thunderstruck. As the Drake wove in and out of the chaotic battlefield, R8 would do his best to keep the jammers pointed directly at the Thunderstruck in attempt to mess with the X-wing's targeting sensors. The blonde man took the Drake around the wreckage of a some forlorn vessel sinking to the atmosphere and started to execute an Immelmann turn. Gravity tugged and pulled at him as his inertial compensators fought to stave off its effects on the man. He caught a glimpse of the X-wing and let out twin bursts from the Drake's Ion Encumbrance Systems - if he was lucky, he might actually hit and 'tag' the Thunderstruck, but the man mostly expected that it may surprise the other pilot or cause him to maneuver out of the way. Before he could register if he had possibly made a hit, Gir switched over to activate his warhead aiming reticle.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Mathieu Brion Inara Basai Palm-Imer
Joycelyn’s stuff: Lightsabre pike, Zaudraka, Jin’wodasir x3, Imperator’s Raiment, SIF-7 Minos, Dwomotchwûq, Sonic Grenades x 2
Armies: The Cathedra, Varanin Legion..
Sithspawn: Horde Mother, Sith Wasps, Spark Bug, Maelridae.

In the wake of the flying insectoid sithspawn plaguing Den Velmor came the Legion. While they had not caught up with Joycelyn yet, they were making an incremental advancement through the city. Where ground-to-air batteries fell to stillness, they rushed in to bring them under Sith-Imperial control. While the purpose of the sithspawn was to create chaos and disrupt the enemy, while distracting the Jedi, the purpose of the Legion was simple: To establish and control an area.

And to that end, they had lit the skies of Velmor up in a thousand streaks of light.

To the aid of their morale, the silhouette of the Cathedra floated in the atmosphere like a small moon. Next to it, the warships seemed small, petty even.

But the purpose of Joycelyn was to crush the backbone of their defence: The Jedi.

During her lancing, the protectors of the cretins of Velmor managed to fend off some of her sithspawn and create something of a barrier against them using the many vehicles present. it was resourceful, she would give them that.

But would it be enough?

The young man who she had tried to skewer cleverly avoided her attack and slashed into her speederbike.

While his sabre cut clean through the vehicle, it could not cut through the black plates that covered Joycelyn’s legs. As the bike was slashed, it broke in two. Joycelyn tumbled forward, still seated, and caught herself in a forward roll, dropping her spear on the ground.

However, the vehicle did not spin out and away from her. Instead, she used its still active thrusters to pull herself up. Then, she firmly set her legs as she spun around and counterweighted herself against the momentum of the machinery. She first thought to throw it at he who had cut it, but in her periphery she saw another stepping up on top of a speeder, so Joycelyn threw herself into another quarter turn before she released it, sending the thrusters roaring at Palm.

As it released, she fell to one knee, hands clamping down on the silver spear she had dropped, making herself ready to lunge against her opponent.

She was fully confident her beasts could do the rest.

Perhaps over-confident.

 

[Aristeia Zambrano]

Tags: Torrack Australis Forjund Australis
Equipment: in Bio
Main Objective: Shatter Resistance, Assist in Siege of Hyllyard City.

It was going so well, she could feel her images pushing forward, the energy needed to keep them in play was kept to a minimum. She was in two places at once, her physical self sat on the tank, the other among her illusionary tank division. She smiled to herself, feeling rather pleased with her 'genius', feeling an air of supremacy take over her; was this what it felt like to display her power?

Then someone had to ruin it, the head of that idiotic officer emerged from behind her, inquiring on some trifling matter no doubt. "Madem Zambrano, we are having issues with the communication arrays, we just lost the enti-" His words were cut off, as the loud 'boom' of the missiles exploded, the source became known to Aristeia, as the target had been her squad of illusionary tanks. Her brow furrowed at what this meant. An ambush? As the smoke shrouded the tanks, Ari dropped the illusion, letting the weapon operators know of their failing; now their positions were revealed to her. "Commander, pull back, we will not let these primitives stop us. I'll fix the communication array." The sound of blaster fire erupted in the air, as the battle began to break out around them. Her once high and happy mood had degraded into a bitter seething rage. These back water dwelling ingrates wanted to kill her? Wanted to try and embarrass her on her big day? Well, that just wasn't going to fly. No, she wouldn't put up with it. She was in line for the throne, she was Ariestia Zambrano, and she would NOT be defied? They wanted to RUIN her day? HER day? The commander sunk back into the tank, intent of following her orders; though; though Ari soon joined him within the tank. Being in the cramped confines, she felt a degree of disgust, having to share air with her subordinates, a slight that she would have to put aside. Their communication array might have been down, but they had other means of communication. Gritting her teeth, Ari projected her voice into the minds of her forces, feeling a sense of disgust as her divinity had to be divided among the commoners; this was all the Mandalorians fault, and they would pay for this ordeal.

'All forces, pair up with the tank divisions and push forward. Press the attack, do not relent. Tank Commanders, form a line and sweep inwards, we will drive these pests to the surface, even if we need to burn this planet to the ground.'

Sitting stationary within the tank, Ari would serve as the coordination for her men, as a renewed fighting spirit would take over the Sith troopers, working in perfect tandem as they launched a counter attack. It was a power that Ari despised using, but one that had proven effectiveness. The one thing that she found rather annoying however, was she would be too depleted to fight once they arrived at the city; assuming this fight dragged on as long as she anticipated.

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Beltran Rarr

Location: Jungles around Hyllyard City
Objective: Hold back the tide, support Clan Australis forces in defense of the city, return Kytana's present with a few of his own
Allies: SJC and allied personnel, directly supporting Torrack Australis, Forjund Australis and associated Clan Australis forces
Enemies: Sith marching on Hyllyard City, firing in the general vicinity of Kytana
Loadout:

• Armor: Katarn Mk. II Combat Armor
• Clothing: Katarn Undersuit, Bantha Load-bearing system
• Primary Weapons: 10mm Pulse Rifle
• Secondary Weapons: Death-Dealer Handcannon (drop holster, right hip - loaded with Sith-Killer Ammunition), Pulse Pistol (chest holster) Lightsaber (clipped to waist), Lightsaber Pike (strapped to back), Wrist Mounted Blaster (right wrist), Tactical Vibroblade (right boot)

Commanding: Paladin Company (150 Rangers)

"Third platoon, fall back past the second clearing! Let the Sith try to run you down!" Beltran called out over his coms. "Second platoon, wheel left and engage the enemy from the flank as they try to run down third."

Beltran received was static in return and the occasional muffled sound of a shouting voice amid blaster fire. He hoped that his platoon commanders had heard him, but it was difficult to tell. Somebody had deployed a series of jammers throughout the forest and it was reeking havoc on Paladin Company's communications.

To his left, he saw the hunched body of his radio operator-the Ranger who carried his squad's extended range com-unit. The young man had the headset pressed against his ear as he spoke quickly, providing coordinates for the bombardment of the advancing Sith forces. He briefly considered commandeering the unit for his own purposes. It produced a powerful enough signal to break through most of the jamming.

But he quickly decided that providing coordinates for the artillery strikes trumped his need to micro-manage his commanders. They knew their jobs. Beltran had made sure of that before they'd landed.

Crawling on his belly up the mound of dirt that surrounded their fox-hole, he levelled his blaster. The Sith advance forces were being bolstered by large groups of armor and heavy infantry. It felt to Beltran a little like he was trapped in a garbage masher that had just activated.

To his right, an unseen projectile slammed into the Ranger (fired by Kytana) on his right-cutting through his armor like it wasn't even there and taking a good portion of his upper chest and right shoulder with it in a spray of blood and gore. Beltran ducked instinctively and rolled, knowing that he would likely be the next most logical target for the sniper. Coming up on his elbows, Beltran raised his pulse rifle and tried to zoom in on the shot's point of origin.

The software in his HUD couldn't do much more than give a basic idea of where the shot had come from, but that was fine as the Lorrdian emptied the rest of his clip into the wide swath of underbrush. More than a dozen super-heated mag-pellets flew at supersonic speeds into the general vicinity, causing brush fires and even minor explosions as they slammed into trees, rocks and other obstacles. It probably wasn't enough to hit the sniper, but it might make them think about moving positions.

And if they did that, maybe Beltran could zoom in on their movement...

 

[Sakadi Marathi Sinvala]

Location: Thustra, Sinvala Estate.
Objective: Face the past.
Equipment: Lightsabers, Cosaint Bracers, standard equipment (Bio)

All her musical career long, the Sephi had lacked passion. Not a single piano keystroke, nor play of the violin had ever brought her joy. But no matter how much sorrow she felt, her performances always ended in a standing ovation. She never understood how her own despondency and misery could translate into something others depicted as unprecedently beautiful. Perhaps that was the secret behind it all. Drawing people in her small and cold world, to have them forget what troubles plagued them for the long hours her performances had lasted. No, for her, that world had never been a pleasant one.

And yet, as she entered the warm and inviting living room, the Sephi instantly came to regret leaving that world. For her decision to deny 'fate' had resulted in ruining the life of another.

Sakadi Marathi Sinvala left the estate over 50 years ago. But even after five decades, did she recognize the slender shoulders, purple hair and delicate frame of her sister. But the pale hands ending in sharpened nails that danced across the keys, the swirling mass of aggravated dark energy... did those too belong to her sister?

Only then did she notice that she had held her breath. The older Sephi clad in flowing white robes stood in the doorway, motionless like a statue. The only sign of life that came from her, was the slight twitching of her pointy ears. For once, it wasn't her lack of voice that made her unable to speak. No, this time, she simply didn't know what to say. There were no words that could describe how she felt.

She felt her heart pound in her chest as the younger of the two turned to face her guest. Like her counterpart, the Sephi clad in black froze. It gave Sakadi a chance to gaze deep into the corrupted red eyes of her sister. Her younger sister. The girl she was supposed to look out for. Had she failed? Again?

It was painfully clear what happened. Her sister, sweet Maya, had fallen to the Dark side of the Force. All the evidence pointed at that particular conclusion. But not a fiber of her being wanted to accept that outcome. It was tempting to look in the other's mind, and search for an answer that could reject this cruel twist of fate. But the Jedi knew deep down already that she couldn't find that answer.

As she gazed upon the defiant spite painted across her sister's face, the Jedi Master could only think of how the battlefield on Myrkr would've made her feel more at ease. For here, she could not even bring herself to project a single word.

Maya Bir Sinvala ​

 

[Kyra Perl]

Location: Touching down in Hyllyard City
Allies: Thirdas Heavenshield
Enemies: Lark
??????: Nida Perl​

Spoiler: Responding to

​

Enter Hell City
Allies: Kyra Perl
Enemies: Lark
Lost love: Nida Perl

As their ship came in for a landing inside the city of Hyllyard, Thirdas had entered tactical mode; surveying the area, looking for troop movements both friendly and otherwise, calculating the most strategic location to focus your defense. Even though he did not come to this place as that same lieutenant of the Antarian Rangers, he could not ignore his training. This world was under siege, and if they could help defend the city as well as retrieve Nida, all the better.

His tactical scan of the area ceased as soon as that familiar, yet terrifying, feeling struck him like a hammer on an anvil, ringing in his head.

"I know," he said in a grim timbre. He could feel her too, though he could not explain it. His body tensed up, afraid of what they would discover. Nida had been a captive of the Sith for months. Would they even recognise her?

Before stepping off the ship, Thirdas made sure to stock up on weapons and ammo. He also put on his mask; besides the tactial advantage it offered, it also provided a strange sense of comfort, believing Nida would not recognise him. A foolish notion, for how would she not sense him the way he sensed her?

A steady stream of civilians fleeing the approaching Sith forces ran past while he and Kyra attempted to make it farther into the city. A kid bumped into him, falling on his back and looking up at this hulking figure with no face, carrying a big gun. That same terrifying figure would then reach down to offer a hand.

"On your feet, soldier."

Pulling the boy off the ground, he turned and handed him over to his panicked parents so they may resume their evacuation. Thirdas then caught up to Kyra, finally breaking through the sea of refugees.

"We should do what we can to save the city," he added to their list of objectives. "As much as I want to find Nida, we can't just stand by and leave these people to their fates."

They'd be no better than the Sith, then.

Kyra snorted, turning to face Thirdas with a edge to her gaze. "There's nothing we can do. They are are already here-- did you see how big those ships are? We can't save a whole city, Thirdas. Focus. We're here for Nida." It was brutal logic, but it had saved her sanity over the months when the weight of the world pressed down on her. She was just girl in the middle of galaxy that bled pain. Accepting responsibility for its outcome was too much for her young mind to bear.

So she didn't.

The padawan turned from the solider, her expression hardening as she felt it again-- the smallest pulse of acknowledgement, a familiar strain that ran deep through her. Nida was thinking of her.

"She needs me," Kyra whispered, kicking in gear and jumping high into the air. She cleared the rushing bodies, a few shocked screams dying down as quick as they came as Kyra landed perched on a one story roof. The panic below echoed up at her, tugging at her guilt. She swallowed hard, forcing a shaky breath through her lips as skimmed the distance. Was that her, or was that a flash of pink.

"There!"

She cried out, point far west to Thirdas down below. She fell back down to him, her brows alight with concern as she reported quickly. "The military line at the edge of the town line. Once the shields are down they are gonna push in." And the civilians... were running right towards it.