Public Emergence: Skirmish on Batuu

[Aaran Tafo]

Location: Blackspire Outpost.
Opposition: Kyrel Ren

It was an obvious taunt. Kyrel clearly had some kind of trick, some kind of effect similar to Aaran where his body was supernaturally durable. Or he was looking to make a counterattack. There was also the possibility that he simply wanted to have Aaran make the first strike simply so e could taunt him over the Jedi striking first.

While ignoring that his forces were the attackers here. But Aaran had seen similarly impressive displays of mental gymnastics in the past performed by Dark Side adherents. So this would be no different.

Of course the Wanderer was not going to particularly care about such things. "I dont have to stop you. Just keep you busy until reinforcements arrive." He said, fingers flexing. As he considered his approach. No point in taking the bait. But he would need to do something to keep the Master of Ren pinned. His showy announcement had bought the civilians precious seconds to get to safety. But what was really needed was a rout. Showing the attackers that their leaders were not as invincible as they believed.

"But, if you insist."

So instead of attacking head on, Aaran instead closed his fist. A loud screeching of twisting metal was heard as a nearby pipe was ripped from the wall. Spinning once in the air before launching itself at a dangerous velocity towards Kyrel. The jagged end of the pipe rocketing itself from behind him. Intend in spearing him through the spine. Painful, and if it hit the blow was potentially crippling. But not immediately lethal.

Hopefully, it would be enough to knock the wind out of the monster's sails. But if not, Aaran still had a few tricks up his sleeves.

 

[Maestus]

She studied Ingrid L'lerim and Zachariel Steelblood taunt each other. She studied the nuances of their exchange, both verbal and non. She would have preferred to study them longer, but the male Twi'Lek shouted to her, pointing out the door.

Wookies. She wasn't terribly fond of the brutes, but she had little direct eperience with them. She knew them to be ferocious warriors, full of rage and terror when angry. Yes, she wanted one. She strode back to the male Twi'Lek, pointing at the Wookies.

Set your blaster to stun. Shoot one until it drops. Kill it and you'll pay with your life.

She moved off, looking out another door. And that's when she spied Vexari Kahl . With malice in her fiery red eyes and rage fueling her heart, she left Ingrid and Zachariel to their battle. She stepped outside, facing Vexari Kahl and began striding in her direction. Eyes moved around quickly, scanning for something.

Ah yes, this will do nicely. Lifting her right wrist, she lifted the armored body of a dead guardsman up, holding him there. Then she snapped her wrist in Vexari's direction, flinging the bloody body towards her.

 

[Vexari Kahl]

Vexari saw the body being flung towards her. She unceremoniously fired off one of her disruptor pistols at it, disintigrating it before it could strike her. She then spotted her quarry. A Sith aiding the Brotherhood, it seemed. Yet she showed no fear. She casually tossed aside her pistols, before reaching for the old First Order Electrobaton on her back, drawing it forth and twirling it around skillfully. Force sensitive or not, she knew how to fight.

​

"You'll leave that wookie alone if you know what's good for you, Sith. You arn't the first force sensitive I've had to fight, and you certainly won't be the last.", she said, spitting on the floor before suddenly advancing towards Maestus, testing her defenses with a series of swift, precise blows from her electrobaton.

Meanwhile, the Mercenary stormtrooper garrison had managed to push deep into the settlement, several of their walkers having found another route past the flames that'd blocked the other path, where they unleashed torrents of blaster fire and launched grenades towards clusters of Maw troops. They were aided by the newly arrived wookies, who's gunships had taken off after deploying them to provide air support, some of them targetting Maw slave vessels with ion weaponry to prevent them escaping with captives, if they were able.

Maestus
Ingrid L'lerim
Kyrel Ren
The Messenger
The Mongrel

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group​

Location: Black Spire Outpost, Batuu
Equipment: The Soulsabers | Brynja coat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Tag:: Zachariel Steelblood

[ Set the World on Fire ] ​

Ingrid also felt the arrivals, though she didn’t deal with them, didn’t need reinforcements. In the shadows, there were still two Shadow Knights waited her command, if necessary, they would also intervene. But only as a last resort, and hoped that all this would not be necessary. Wanted to settle this duel alone, felt the other feel less and less anger, hatred, not concentrating enough, but it was no longer a problem. She could already absorb quite a bit from him, not to mention what was out there. Thanks to more people arriving, it meant even more energy.

But now didn't pay attention to it either, she got what she had. Ingrid was the kind of opponent who always showed just as much of her own abilities as the other had, or just a little more. So that her opponent can never know what she is really capable of. Or anyone else who is against her, well adapted to any situation. That is why she has done even now. That’s why tried to avoid strong attacks, at least in the beginning. As the man accelerated, she had to do the same, though the first blow still favoured the man.

Could barely bend away from the cut, a part of the strange sword reaching the woman's face and cutting it deep. Which may have been strange the woman was not bleeding. Not literally, black smoke came out of the wound and the edges began to contract quickly due to the rapid regeneration effect. The Empress blocked the next strong attack with a single lightsaber, without any difficulty. Exactly the opposite reaction to what she showed earlier.

"I think this is the end of the game!"

Said coldly. With the lightsaber trying to squeeze Zachariel's sword down, if she managed to push the sword to the ground, stood on his blade with a quick motion and "jumped" at the man. Tried to kick her opponent in the throat with an elegant gesture, with full strength. She knew she wouldn't kill the man with this, even if she smashed his trachea because he would recover soon. But maybe she'll have enough time while the man is drowning to kill him once and for all.

If she managed to kick him, if she didn’t, would still jump over the man and then come down to the ground behind him after a somersault and immediately face him again so as not to show her back if Zachariel turned in the meantime.

 

[Calruss Shiman]

Location: Black Spire Outpost.
Allies: Ingrid L'lerim Vexari Kahl
Enemies: Kyrel Ren Zachariel Steelblood The Mongrel

The maw warrior let out a yell of pain as he looked up to the roof and shouted at the top of his lungs, before getting thrown down the corridor where a group of guards jumped and attacked him like a pack of dogs. Calruss didn't bother to watch as he walked through the doorway and left them to their own devices, the mans yells beginning to fade away as they continued to get their revenge. It appeared the warrior was alone and attempted some kind of last stand against the wave of guards that never seemed to end. He had to admit, their fearlessness was admirable, yet it seemed to fill them with overconfidence that led to their downfall.

He turned off his lightsaber and moved on into a more quieter part of the settlement. The burned and shattered walls were a clear indication of previous battles, but whoever was here seemed to have continued on some time ago. Calruss was still unclear if any of his allies had moved on too, but the fact he had yet to run into one was slowly becoming concerning. However, a familiar sound gave him hope. The clattering of sabers echoed distantly down the corridor, something of which forced him to quicken his pace as he now jogged towards the source. His wound was only getting increasingly painful from every step he made, even with his pain tolerance it was beginning to go over the threshold unbearable agony. Calruss could only grit his teeth as the sounds got more clear, up until he saw the cause with his very eyes. A pair of fierce combatants were in the middle of a duel, where one of the participants was instantly familiar

Calruss was in the presence of the Empress, a woman whose rule over the Eternal Empire was somewhat of a legend. As they both duelled the teen could only fold his arms and watch silently, not daring to interrupt and provide help the Empress didn't need. Watching her fight was an honour in itself and a learning experience he was sure to remember. He didn't even know she was on the planet up until now, but it was clear the empress was a better ally to run into than anybody else. Although, her opponent seemed equally as dangerous. He turned his pale face in the heretics direction and studied his movements, curious to see if the figure could hold his own against a powerful dualist.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Ingrid L'lerim | Maestus | Calruss Shiman | Vexari Kahl | The Mongrel | Kyrel Ren​

Fighting Ingrid as he was, it was clear to Zachariel that he was beating her. Yes, she was fighting back, yes she was doing some damage, but it wouldn't be enough. So when he went faster, he was partially surprised that she dodged, but kept up the attack. At the same time, part of his mind noted how she bled smoke, and not blood. Not only that, but she was healing, almost at the same speed Zachariel healed. This would be an endurance fight, one Zachariel would enjoy. And then she blocked his blade fully, prompting Zachariel to grunt at the sudden stop. Leaning in partially, Zachariel sneered at her, even as she spoke.

He couldn't say anything though, because she was too fast. And his leaning gave her the perfect chance to attack him. Allowing his blade to go down, hoping to sweep it around and attack from the other side, Zachariel was too close when she suddenly went forward. She jumped successfully from his blade, her leg connected with his throat, and Zachariel was knocked back partially. Had he been a human, or any other alien, it would've crushed his throat. But he was gen'dai, he had no true throat. He had no such weaknesses as organs, he simply was. That said, it was clear he hadn't expected the attack, having focused more on her and her lightsabers, less on the rest of her.

Such a lapse wouldn't happen again, but it was clear he could be surprised. With a half broken growl coming through his dented throat, Zachariel spun as she vaulted over him. Thanks to his genetics and his enhancements, he could keep fighting, but he could no longer speak, at least until his throat was fixed. As soon as she landed and was spinning to face him, Zachariel was already on the attack, sword flashing.

He couldn't speak, but his anger was still clear, and it didn't diminish his skill with a blade. Zachariel's sword flashed across her body, then it flew down, before cutting up. Finally he also attacked with his body, seeking to return the favor. His sword flashed from the right and his leg from the left, both seeking to deliver blows to her, and coming in with a short delay. The entire time, Zachariel's mind was a ablaze with thoughts of murder, voice half growling even as his throat fixed itself.

 

[TK-818]

Location: Across from Droid Depot
Objective: -Hunting-
Allies: Kyrel Ren | The Mongrel | Brotherhood of the Maw
Enemies: Aaran Tafo | Calruss Shiman | Everyone Else

The Knight of Ren stood in the midst of it all, behind his dark visor lied cold, empty eyes that watched as the Black Spire Outpost was baptized in the fire and blood. Glazed over in flames, the Brotherhood burned everything it touched in the flames of zealous fury. Even as they took losses from the mechanized walkers and sudden arrival of wookiee reinforcements, there was no relief in sight as the raiders continually rushed in like a swarm to combat those holed up at the cantina.

He couldn't help but admire the sheer crushing power of belief their sacred text held over the Brotherhood's marauders. As an adherent of the Ren, he had little use himself for the pagan beliefs of the Brotherhood. He paid lip service every so often even as some of his brothers fell whole heartedly into the trap that was the 'Scripture of the Hidden Maw'. No, his deity was the Shadow personified in the way of the Ren, the Dark Side of the Force was all he needed to fuel him forward as he moved onward from the edge of the marketplace toward the epicenter of the battle. If by chance the 'Avatars' did exist in any fashion, the Avatar of Death sure was getting it's fill tonight.

His attention snapped off into the distance as a ATST walker was hit by a single shot of The Mongrel 's missile launcher. The Knight of Ren coldly watched on from the darkness in approval before feeling the signatures of several Force-wielders of significant strength nearby. Positioning his halberd to his side, ready at a moment's notice, he steadily made his approach toward the duel between Empress Ingrid L'lerim and Warlord Zachariel Steelblood .

Entering an arched alleyway, Sinh slowly crept into the shadows where the light dimmed. The nearby rooftop of an adjacent building stood ablaze in a raging inferno filling the area in smoke and ash. Through the dense smoke that filled the path ahead came two wookiees, both here to fulfill their debt to the Queen of Batuu. One fired into a nearby raider, ending his life as the other ruthless tossed another into the stonework of a nearby archway with immense force. The raider's life had been cut short instantly as his head crushed into the rock.

The Knight of Ren made sure to seize this opportunity while both beasts were distracted by taking off into a run followed by a powerslide as be connected with a leg sweep upon reaching the savage creatures. Before the first could hit the ground, Sinh shoved the blade of his halberd into the wookiee's back. The second fell prey to his other leg as he followed through with another sweep in quick succession. Letting go of his halberd, he hastily drew his blade from his back sheath and slammed down onto the wookiee's head, separating it from the trunk.

His visor rose, his eyes scanned the horizon. He was close, not much longer and he'd reach his prey. He was sure of it.

 

[Thorald Magnusson]

Location: Black Spire Outpost, Batuu
Allies: Ingrid L'lerim | Calruss Shiman | Vexari Kahl | Aaran Tafo
Enemies: Kyrel Ren | Zachariel Steelblood | The Mongrel

Ranulf was firing shot after shot, Maw members wasting away at every pull of the trigger, bodies slumped over their brothers as they attacked the innocents of the Outpost. His trained eye didn't need more than a few seconds on each of his shots before he moved to the next, letting the one he had taken out barely reach the ground before taking a shot on the next one.

He felt relatively safe on top of the Spires balcony, especially with the raging brawl beneath Ranulf believed he wouldn't have much to worry about from the fight down below until things managed to calm down a bit more, but when that happened he hoped they would be pushing the remaining members of the maw out.

Ranulf continued to shoot at the attacking members of the Maw, his rounds taking out dozens of soldiers at this point. Firing another bolt into the forehead he went to pull the trigger again when he heard the click. He me moved to go and reload his sniper rifle, his hand reaching into his equipment belt and pulling out a magazine, as he went to put it in he heard the sound of a launcher round zipping. His eyes turned up to see it coming towards him and without a second of hesitation he went to leap out of the way as the explosion hit his position.

 

[Maestus]

She watched as Vexari Kahl disintegrated the guard she had flung her way. Mental note, stay out of the way of that disrupter. Ahhh.....The prey took the bait.

Maestus shifted her stance, and rolled her shoulders. She lifted her left hand up and her lightsaber flew into it. Extending her will, the plasma blade whirred to life. The purple blade humming as the energy pulsed through it. She took a defensive stance, but it was deceptive. Her stance, while similar to Shii-Cho, allowed for quick counterstrikes on her opponent.

AS Vexari rushed her, Maestus made note of her footwork and her eyes. AS the electrobaton struck at her, she sidestepped the first few blows. Then was forced to parry them with her saber. Vexari had managed to get in close. What could have been a lethal mistake for Maestus.

She slid her feet back, and readied her stance once again. And waited. Watching. Studying. Learning. Black eyes with red flaming rims were keen and alert. Narrowed as she focused on her prey.

Might I have the pleasure of your name, before I add your head to my trophies.

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Black Spire Outpost, Streets
Allies: TK-818 , Kyrel Ren
Enemies: Vexari Kahl, Thorald Magnusson

The balcony disappeared in a burst of flames and duracrete dust, pulverized by the high-explosive missile. Pushing himself away from the wall he'd been forced against by the weapon's powerful recoil, The Mongrel smiled. He had no idea whether the sniper had managed to survive, but that particular vantage point was utterly fragged; no one would be able to shoot from the half-collapsed tower any longer. That had been worth one of his precious missiles; the sniper had rapidly claimed some three dozen marauders.

Back to his first priority, then. The Mongrel limped up the street, then quickly ducked into an alleyway when he saw what was coming his way. While he'd been distracted, the Smuggler Queen's hired AT-STs had finally found a way around the wall of flames he'd created, and were pushing their way down the road. Between their rapid-fire blaster cannons and their cheek-mounted concussion grenade launchers, they were a lethal counter to massed infantry, and they were clearing a path for the mercenary stormtroopers behind them.

If they kept going, they would be able to punch through the marauders' lines and reach their shuttles. The Brotherhood forces would be outflanked, trapped within the outpost, and the glorious raid could quickly become a desperate battle for survival. The Mongrel could not allow that to happen. He looked back up at tower Thorald Magnusson had been shooting from, now listing badly to one side where the missile had destroyed its structural supports. A vicious grin spread across his face as an idea struck him.

The Mongrel knew that he couldn't step out into the street to fire directly at the AT-STs. The veteran pilots and their sophisticated targeting software would light him up instantly, and he would be a charred corpse before he even hit the ground. But he didn't hit the walkers with a missile in order to bring them down. Instead he aimed his launcher at the teetering tower, its domed top leaning dangerously out over the street, and fired at the base. The second missile flew true, and ripped through duracrete like flimsiplast.

Hopefully that would finish off the sniper if the first rocket hadn't.

With a terrible groan of tortured metal, the building collapsed into the street. Its heavy top level crashed through the roof of the small apartment building across from it, leaving behind only rubble. The middle of the tower fell directly on the lead AT-ST as it walked up the street, smashing the walker into a pancaked mess of jagged durasteel. The other walkers took only glancing hits from the falling debris, but their way forward was once again blocked; their legs, though versatile, could not navigate the huge piles of rubble.

By the time they found another way around, the raid might well be over.

Before The Mongrel could celebrate his tactical victory, however, a new sound reached his ears - the telltale pulsing of ion cannons. He looked up to see that Vexari Kahl's gunships, having dropped off their furry and lethal cargo, were now trying to intercept the Brotherhood's shuttles before they could escape with their captives. Before the marauder's eyes, two gunships closed in on a lone Brotherhood craft, striking it repeatedly with ion blasts. The ship's engines shuddered, then died, and it fell.

As quickly as his mangled leg would permit, The Mongrel rushed up the stairs to a nearby apartment's balcony entrance, scanning for where the ship had gone down. The fallen shuttle had crashed hard, drawing a long furrow in the rocky ground outside the outpost's walls and uprooting a dozen trees before coming to a rest against a huge spire of rock. It was hard to tell whether anyone had survived the fall. The Mongrel hissed in rage; they needed living slaves to replenish their numbers. Those gunships needed to be dealt with.

The marauder checked his satchel, then hissed again; he was down to the last rocket he'd managed to scavenge from the droid depot. Still, shooting down even one gunship would help the cause. Already the Brotherhood's uglies, scavenged interceptors slapped together from the parts of dozens of different starfighters, were moving to engage the Smuggler Queen's ships. If he wanted to assist in the dogfight, he needed to get to higher ground. Forcing his leg to function, The Mongrel began to climb further up the apartment complex's stairwell.

He'd had a taste of blood, and now he hungered for more kills.

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group​

Location: Black Spire Outpost, Batuu
Equipment: The Soulsabers | Brynja coat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Tag:: Zachariel Steelblood

[ Set the World on Fire ] ​

After a while, Ingrid was really sure that her opponent had already underestimated her, then it could have come that he would be very surprised and end the fight. However, this is exactly what the man thought. That’s when he got the woman injured and really switched the fight to a new level. Saw that she had managed to surprise her opponent by showing nowhere near what she was capable of. At least she thought so and read that from the reactions. Knew her opponent's physical condition and that it wouldn't stop him, but it was somewhat helpful.

Ingrid was not only a trained assassin, but a soldier, not to mention a Force User. During each fight, used everything she was capable of. This is exactly what she did in this fight; which was also needed. Zachariel turned immediately when Ingrid came to the ground, fortunately the woman too, because that was exactly what she expected. And the man did the same as the woman, with his weapon and his body, his leg. Zachariel was in armor, large-bodied, strong anyway, though Ingrid's clothing would catch some of the injuries, but the hit wouldn't be pleasant.

That’s why she didn’t even want that to happen. As the man arrived and struck at her, Ingrid set off between the swinging sword and leg to slide past the man's side next to the ground and thus partially under the man. The sword reached the end of her red hair and cut off a good four to five centimetres from it. It was also part of the woman - it also reached the hair through shape-shifting - after the cut it turned into black smoke. Of course it hurt, but she didn't care, her mental pain was still greater. As she slid, tried to cut off Zachariel's leg at knee height, with which the man stood on the ground.

Did not wait for the result, whether she succeeded or not, it was time to continue. As she got up from the ground, facing the man again, looking at his back. Reached out the Force and this time tried to use the Memory Walk ability on her opponent to torture him…


//Sorry this is not my best post, I have migraine all day… //

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Black Spire Outpost, Crashed Shuttle
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw
Enemies: Black Spire Defenders

"Back!" the Ebruchi hissed, cracking his neuronic whip through the air. The electrified cable raked across the flesh of several captives, and as one they screamed and fell back, tumbling against the ragged metal bulkheads. Still, it bought him only a moment's respite. These prisoners were not yet broken; they had only just been captured from Black Spire Outpost, and the delicate work of stripping away even the memory of freedom had not yet begun. They would fight hard to escape, and it would be up to him to prevent that from happening.

Tu'teggacha looked around the wreckage of the downed shuttlecraft, his facial tendrils drifting through the smoky air as he both saw and tasted the scene before him. Most of the marauders accompanying him, held back from the raid to guard the new slaves, had been killed in the crash; their broken bodies lay against the walls and dented floor, necks and limbs twisted at impossible angles. Many of the slaves had suffered a similar fate, the rough 'landing' throwing them around like ragdolls. Many of the survivors groaned in agony, bones shattered.

A thousand curses upon Vexari Kahl and her gunships' ion cannons!

The Ebruchi had been unharmed in the crash, save for a bruised shoulder and a minor gash on the side of his bulbous head; his people, though relatively small, were compact and hardy. But he ought not to have been there at all; the battlefield was no place for him. His gift came into play after the raid, when he burned off the figurative slag from the captives and reforged them into something purer. In his eagerness to begin with a new batch of prisoners, however, he had decided to join the first wave of shuttles. Now he bitterly regretted the mistake.

There were perhaps twenty surviving prisoners, and only three marauders left alive to guard them, one of them injured. Unless the situation was brought under control, and quickly, a revolt would see these wretches freed of their chains. They were still close enough that any break in the battle inside Black Spire Outpost might allow them to be rescued, so they needed to be swiftly moved to another shuttle. Any ordinary overseer would declare it impossible; only four of them, trying to command prisoners five times their number? They'd be overrun.

But Tu'teggacha was not an ordinary overseer. He might not be a deadly warrior, but he was a master of fear. The Ebruchi reached out with his dark power, drinking in the pain and terror that the raid had caused on this backwater world; such was the fuel of the Dark Side, and its presence made him strong. Wielding the strife, he directed his senses to the minds of the twenty prisoners. He could feel their despair and anxiety warring with their hope. It was all too easy to feed the former, amplifying terror and doubt to crush out the latter.

Force Horror exploded out from him. The prisoners gasped, then sagged against their chains.

"Get them moving," the Ebruchi commanded the nearest marauder, his full attention focused on maintaining the effect on so many people at once. Hope was a frustratingly resilient emotion, almost impossible to completely extinguish; that normally took hours, even days, in his torture chamber. Besides, there was a delicate balance between making the prisoners afraid enough to obey them and making them so afraid that they wet themselves, tried to mindlessly run from him, or collapsed into gibbering wrecks. Any of those would be... inefficient.

The marauders moved through the hold, unchaining the dead from the line and then re-fastening the shackles to connect those still living. A few minutes later, the line of chained slaves streamed out of the transport. Two marauders guarded the front while the last one and Tu'teggacha brought up the rear. This was the most dangerous part, forcing the prisoners to march across open ground within sight of the outpost. With any luck, the battle inside the walls would keep everyone occupied until the little group could reach a fresh shuttle and escape.

If not, the Ebruchi reflected, he might end up having a very bad day.

 

[Vexari Kahl]

​

"Vexari Kahl. I own this planet you happen to be raiding. I'll hunt you and the Brotherhood down for this, you know that? Every smuggler, pirate and spacer under my thumb will hound you to the ends of the galaxy. I'm good to my friends, but my enemies? They don't last long.", she said, maintaining her assault. The area where they were dueling was quickly falling under the control of her own troops, who were making great strides reclaiming ground from the Brotherhood's raiders.

Seryxa didn't relent in her attack, continuing to strike at the Sith Apprentice, keeping her in a defensive stance. A group of Vexari's mercenaries quickly circled around her and the Sith. "I'll make you an offer, miss. Lay down your weapon and I'll spare your life. Don't? My men and I will see you don't leave this battle alive. I fight to win, even if I have to fight dirty. You're impossibly outnumbered...."

The Brotherhood's uglies were engaged by those of the Smuggler's Alliance, their ramshackle fighters dogfighting with one another in Batuu's skies. Skies which were soon filled with another arrival. One of Vexari's Imperial I-class Star Destroyers had managed to return ahead of the rest of her fleet, which was still delayed in returning to Batuu due to being scattered across the Outer Rim and Unknown Regions on various tasks. Swarms of uglies and old TIE fighters emerged from it's hangar bays, swiftly engaging Brotherhood fighters while the Star Destroyer unleashed volleys of turbolaser fire at larger Brotherhood vessels.

The Mongrel
Thorald Magnusson
Maestus
Aaran Tafo
Calruss Shiman

 

[The Messenger]

So began the folly of pirates and simple minded smugglers. Flashes of red emerged on the screens of each of the several capital ships among the Brotherhood's armada. From his lofty audience chamber, the Voice of the Maw watched, waiting for any sign of the Eternal Empire's navy. To his disappointment, a single measly Imperial-I class had emerged from hyperspace to engage the Brotherhood's fleet. Laughter reverberated from the very halls of the Gehinnom at the dreadfully outnumbered odds this vessel faced. The Heathen Priests spoke amongst each other, contemplating simply ramming the ancient vessel into oblivion with the might of the Gehinnom, an unfinished worldcraft of the Imperial Era.

"XX-9 turbolasers, deflector shields, and a standard bridge. It's Imperial era. I doubt the vessel would even penetrate the particle shielding of the Holy City!" One of the Heathen Priests jested, "Desperation does wonders! I for one welcome their sacrifice!" A loud thud sounded off through the halls of the dark prophet as the Voice's walking stick hit against the smooth flooring. "That will be enough. Order the Imperial-II planetside to rain fire on the Black Spire Outpost, let it burn." The cruel gaze of the Voice shifted to the image of the single Imperial-I class as it engaged the fleet, "Be rid of the nuisance. A single vessel of equal size should do, it is the will of the Maw. The Avatar of Rebirth awaits them in the Netherworld, their time has come." One of the priests interjected, puzzled by the order, "We have raiders on the ground your holiness, as well as some of the warlords!" The Voice spat out a wicked smile, a sinister grin that spread from ear to ear, "Alert the warlords. We rain fire, focus on the center of resistance."

Thunder. A massive blue glow illuminated the sky above as the hovering behemoth ignited it's ion drive, thrusters blaring as it rose from it's quiet position over the outpost. There was no mistaking the sound that pierced the skies and filled the ears of those on the ground level battling away. Whispers spread among the puzzled raiders, there was some deal of confusion in the midst of it all. It wasn't until a single raider stepped upon broken block, elevated for all to see, the marauder screamed "Rain fire!" The commanding warlords of the raid, Zachariel Steelblood and Maestus would receive verbal confirmation within seconds of this utter scream.

Uglies and TIEs alike dispatched from the Brotherhood's fleet as a single retrofitted Mon Calamari cruiser broke off from the fleet and began charging the Imperial-I class with their shields at the ready. An image of Deacon Maruk of the Heathen Priests appeared over the dash of the fighters, "The Hidden Maw awaits, take out the bridge. We will join you in the Nether."

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Ingrid L'lerim | Calruss Shiman | Maestus | Vexari Kahl | The Messenger​

Zachariel had underestimated Ingrid, he assumed she would be skilled, but not that she would be powerful aside from that. She had proved him wrong, and Zachariel was glad for it, as it meant her head would be worth even more for it. However, this also meant he never would underestimate her again, and treat her as the truly credible threat she was, instead of only a high level threat. Thus he had attacked with greater fury and speed than before, wounds healing all the while.

In doing so, he managed to cut part of her hair away, and he was genuinely surprised that it began to smoke. It was the same type of smoke as when he had cut her face, but why would hair smoke? It was a question he'd have to answer later, as of now she was still attacking him. She slid and attacked his knee, managing to get past the armor and into the gap. Essentially she cut his leg off, but with his momentum of the kick, Zachariel managed to spin around and bring his other foot back down. Placed where he was, his right left was clearly backwards, though there was pain, Zachariel suppressed it, showing no pain, merely more anger.

With a thought, nanites began to swarm in his body, even as his regular physiology set to work fixing his leg. At the same time she attacked his mind, his leg squelched, suddenly being forced forward, and being reconnected. Normally it would take longer, with nanites it was swiftly being reattached. But Zachariel wasn't focused on that, he was focused on this physic attack of Ingrid's. Against a being like Zachariel, it did little, even as he set his own Force powers to fight it back. The only truly painful memories he would've had were when he became what he was, but he had no memories of them, no pain receptors. As for a horrible memory, or embarrassing one, what did a being of war such as him have to be embarrassed about, what memory could possibly be horri....

Suddenly his mind was back in time, to a point that had happened recently, yet felt like a lifetime ago. Zachariel suddenly reexperienced the memory of the Queen Mother and her minions forcing him to retreat, their numbers too great. He relived how he had to retreat from them, and the following days, or even weeks, if not months, thereafter. That powerlessness he felt then replayed itself, the hopelessness of becoming a puppet. Fighting against a veritable god, and only surviving by relying on others. Those were the only memories Zachariel could regret, they were his worst memories. And thus they replayed themselves over, and over, and over again in his mind. They screamed at him, the Queen Mother's laughter haunted him, and his hopelessness swelled, even as his rage increased. This violence within him bubbled in the Force, even as Zachariel became enraged beyond and comparable measure.

With a pure, animalistic roar that broke the nearest windows, shattered sound, and ruined hearing, Zachariel broke free of the memories, of the pain. His leg was fully healed by now, and his throat only just, and yet he still roared. Arms wide and head looking up, Zachariel roared with such fury, such pure anger, that it was a maelstrom in the Force. It welled about him, a storm that struck at everything close to it. Should Ingrid try to eat of this power, it would simply bash her back, so uncontrollable was it. In and of itself, it still sought destruction of those around it, bashing at others in the Force with rage unparalleled. As for Zachariel, his eyes seemed to glow a dark red as the memories flashed in his mind one last time, before he crushed it without pity, or remorse.

A call went out then, one that said the Brotherhood was about to destroy this place with an orbital bombardment. Zachariel heard it and didn't care, his rage too great to properly note anything but himself, his anger, and his target. Lowering his head to glare at Ingrid with pure rage. His body shook with a rage so uncontrollable it was bursting from Zachariel, lashing out in any way it could. But as he spoke, his voice was deceptively calm, quiet, almost a whisper.
"Never again."

Whatever it was Ingrid had done, it had unleashed hell from Zachariel. He was longer simply Zachariel Steelblood, no. Now he had become rage incarnate, so filled with anger that he was deceptively calm. It had unleashed the power he had partially absorbed in fighting the Queen Mother, it had unleashed death. Taking a single, thudding step forward, Zachariel's grip tightened on his sword. It was clear he wouldn't stop, his intention in the Force was clear as day. To kill, maim, and burn any who stood before him. And nothing would stop him, most likely nothing could, at least not in this state.
"Run."

 

[Maestus]

Maestus was, of all things, quite reasonable. When she chose to be. Now, however, was not one of those times. outwardly, at least. But that was of no import right now. She had more pressing matters to focus on.

Such as the group of soldiers surrounding her and Vexari Kahl . Maestus had to give the other woman credit. She was brave, impetuous. And foolish. Ringing a Sith rarely had a good outcome for those doing the surrounding. Maestus turned her head slowly one side, then slowly the other. Yes, she liked these odds.

As Vexari advanced, Maestus remained on the defensive, Deflecting each incoming blow with ease, or sidestepping. Vexari seemed an intelligent woman, so it would take little time before she realized Maestus was purposefully not attacking. There were several openings where Maestus could have taken her saber and ran Vexari through. Too many times she could have commanded the Dark Side to her and dispatched her foe. As it was, when Vexari advanced, Maestus shifted to her right each time. She basically kept them in the center of the mercenary ring.

Suddenly her comm shouted to life. Orbital bombardment, you say? Yes, time to go. Much as Maestus wanted to continue her duel with Vexari Kahl , Maestus much enjoyed living. And she had no desire to cut that short, not today.

Once the ring was complete, or close to it, Maestus lifted both her hands in the air, and rapidly brought them down and outwards from her body. An intense explosion of pure Dark Side energy erupted from her body. It extended in all directions, causing devastation and destruction to anything in its path.

Once the power had been released, Maestus turned on her heel and made her way back to the her ship. Over comm, she informed what remained of her 40 to do the same, double time. Her next comm was to her pilot, to prime and start the engines and be ready to take off when the last boot had lifted from the ground.

Sensing impending doom, she picked up the pace, now sprinting towards the ship. She chanced a look at the sky, concerned. Not quite any sign of the incoming orbital assault. Good, she might make it. Closing in, she could see the remnants of her 40. Their numbers had been cut in half. This effected Maestus only because new marauders would need trained. Who has time for that?!

Her boots stomped down on the landing ramp, just in time. She could see the incoming blasts now. Feth, she was cutting it close. The last of her marauders finally jumped onto the loading ramp as it began to close. The last marauder had to jump and be hauled in by his fellows. The pilot roared skyward.

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group​

Location: Black Spire Outpost, Batuu
Equipment: The Soulsabers | Brynja coat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Writing with: Zachariel Steelblood || Tag: The Messenger | Vexari Kahl

[ Set the World on Fire ] ​

Managed to cut off her opponent’s leg and perform the memory walk as well, but it didn’t have nearly the effect she expected. As far as Ingrid knew, it should not have had such an effect, but completely different. She felt immense anger, not even trying to absorb it; knew she would probably prosper by suppressing and using it, but at the moment she didn’t need it. Thanks to the rage, the man healed much faster, not to mention that Ingrid also had to concentrate to maintain the ability, so she didn't have a chance to kill her opponent.

When it all broke, the woman would have attacked, but the man then told her to run. The Empress stopped; was it a warning now, unlike before, or this time he wanted the cat-and-mouse game? But Ingrid was not afraid of him. Didn't know yet that the enemy was about to bomb soon. Picked up the Jar'kai base position with the two blades and this time let her power rumble through the Spire and the surrounding area in the Force, her real power, which was big enough.

"No!"

Zachariel could see it even with his naked eyes, but in the Force it was more spectacular as the smoky “tentacles” essentially woven the building the moment she let go of her power. In the Force it now seemed that the Empress was definitely not a human being. At that moment, she could feel the ships stepping out of hyperspace, a calm and coldness pouring from the direction of the ships. It was her own, four Star Destroyers. They may have been in one of the nearby systems and noticed the big movement here.

"Do you have the courage to attack too, or are you just mad?"

Mocked the man in an emotionless voice. Meanwhile, in the space around the planet, the Star Destroyers attacked the Maw's ships.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Ingrid L'lerim | Calruss Shiman Maestus | Vexari Kahl | The Messenger​

Zachariel still shook with pure rage, uncontrollable hate, and a power he had no idea how to control. But he didn't need to control it, just direct it. He had taken a step forward, commanding her to run, and she had refused. It would be admirable if it weren't so suicidal. Not only from Zachariel's power, but the orbital bombardment soon to come. Despite it all, she still stood defiant. Zachariel watched as she unleashed her true powers... and he was utterly unimpressed, and as she spoke again, asking if he would attack, Zachariel growled.
"Then everyone shall join you... in DEATH!"

His statement was calm, that same quiet voice, until he screamed the last word out. Then Zachariel charged forward, sword half raised, looking to strike quickly. In his charge, he directed the Force to batter Ingrid's own Force signature. He had seen her tentacles, objects as blankd and chilly as an ice planet, so calm and cold, that it went against everything Zachariel was.. Zachariel's own Force signature was a swirling maelstrom of madness, death, and rage that crashed into her tentacles at the same time Zachariel would crash into her. It was madness versus cold logic, rage versus calm, and it was glorious. His Force signature moved as if a beast, a storm, and a whirlwind all at once. It raised mighty fists to come smashing down towards Ingrid's tentacles, roaring its bloodlust, even as Zachariel did the same.

As for Zachariel, he was roaring for her blood, displaying all his bloodlust, hatred, and anger in his screams of death. It didn't matter to him that the Maw would soon bombard this area into dust, it didn't matter how strong Ingrid was. Blood would spill, and Zachariel would add more skulls to his collection. His mind was on the battle that would turn into a slaughter, and all he could do was kill, kill, kill! He would not be denied his bloodlust, nor his skulls. Thus, Zachariel's did his best to break Ingrid. His sword flashed, swinging faster, hitting harder, all but screaming the same bloodlust as its master. They would not be denied. Blood would be had, and death would spread.

"BLOOD AND SKULLS!"

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Black Spire Outpost, Streets
Allies: TK-818 , Kyrel Ren
Enemies: Vexari Kahl, Thorald Magnusson

The Mongrel was halfway up the apartment building, forcing his wounded leg up stair after stair, when he heard the sound. It was one that he recognized all too well; it had spelled the final doom of his own world, the scouring of the city where he had spent so many years from the face of the planet. The Brotherhood fleet had moved into position, and fire and death would soon follow. Forcing down panic, the marauder switched directions, rushing back down the stairs. If he wanted to survive his first battle, he needed to get out of the blast zone.

The Mongrel reached the street-level exit just as the first orbital strikes struck the outpost. A building across the street exploded in a wave of heat and light, showering him with chips of duracrete that cut his face and hands. He stumbled away, the leg brace making his steps awkward, and staggered into the mouth of an alley... only to come face to face with the enemy. A pair of mercenary stormtroopers were hurrying down the alley, no doubt seeking shelter just as he was. Behind them, its massive form silhouetted by the firelight, was a wookiee.

The marauder managed to react first, raising his scavenged scattergun and firing point-blank into the first trooper's chest. The mercenary's reinforced armor scattered the pellets and saved his life, but the force of the blast shoved him backward into his comrade, spoiling both men's aim. Dropping the scattergun, The Mongrel drew his knife and pounced, forcing the serrated weapon through the gap between the first trooper's helmet and chest armor. A cry of surprise became a panicked gurgle, and the body dropped as the marauder pulled his blade free.

Enraged, the Wookiee opened fire with its bowcaster, but The Mongrel had been ready. He lunged forward and tackled the other stormtrooper around the waist, pushing the man into the way of the energy quarrel. The powerful weapon punched through the trooper's back plate like it was nothing; the merc didn't even have time to scream before he was gone. Shoving the body aside, The Mongrel hissed a challenge... though internally he frowned. This was the second time in no more than an hour that he was almost certainly biting off more than he could chew; a Wookiee was literally well above his weight class.

It might all have ended for him right there, with his arms ripped from their sockets in a grimy Batuuan alley, if not for the continued orbital bombardment. A turbolaser blast out of the sky struck the alley behind the Wookiee, and the powerful alien howled in pain as the shockwave drove it forward, nearly knocking it from its furry feet. Not just the shockwave, The Mongrel realized; a piece of durasteel rebar as long as his forearm, shattered and launched by the blast, had impaled the Wookiee through the shoulder. He grinned nastily as he realized his advantage. He might actually survive this.

The Wookiee had dropped its bowcaster, which it couldn't operate with one arm hanging limply at its side, but it swiftly drew a razor-sharp ryyk blade with its good arm. A single swing, even one-handed, could easily cleave The Mongrel in half. He couldn't let it get that chance. Winding up with his arm, the marauder threw his knife as hard as he could, aiming for the alien's head. The Wookiee, a well-trained warrior, easily dodged the weapon... but hitting it had never been The Mongrel's plan. Instead he dove for the dropped bowcaster, arms outstretched.

The inflexibility of the brace spoiled his attempt to roll over his shoulder, leaving him sprawled on the dirty street... but his hands still closed around the weapon. As the Wookiee reacted, raising its sword to cut his head from his shoulders, The Mongrel rolled over and fired. He pulled the weapon's trigger over and over, until the reserve of energy quarrels was exhausted and half a dozen black spots had been scorched into his enemy's thick fur... and even then he wasn't quite sure that it was dead. It took another step toward him, blade raised for a killing stroke, howling in fury...

And then it keeled over, almost on top of him. Looking up at the sky, which flashed green and red with laserfire against the orange reflection of the flames, The Mongrel sighed. He'd hoped to take a Wookiee pelt as a trophy, but if he stayed to skin this one, he would surely die in the bombardment. And there was no way he could have hauled the corpse with him, not even with two good legs. He tossed aside the empty bowcaster and snatched up the ryyk blade, along with his scattergun; at least he'd managed to take some kind of trophy.

Forcing himself back to his feet, he began to seek an escape route.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Black Spire Outpost, Crashed Shuttle
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw
Enemies: Black Spire Defenders

The skies flashed with cannonfire, and before Tu'teggacha's eyes another part of Black Spire Outpost's outer wall exploded. The final stage of the raid had begun, ensuring that the destruction was as complete as the Brotherhood could make it... and that they could not easily be followed. The starships of the various smugglers and pirates would be priority targets, to prevent any survivors from taking off after them. Victims of Brotherhood raids were sometimes foolish that way, refusing to write off loved ones taken as slaves, pursuing the raiders across the galaxy to rescue their victims.

It never ended well for those would-be heroes, but it was a nuisance.

"Faster," the Ebruchi snapped, lashing a random slave near the back of the line with his neuronic whip. He had no intention of becoming stranded on this backwater planet; anyone left behind would certainly be subject to the revenge of whatever natives remained. Focusing his full attention on the power of the Dark Side, he fed on misery and amplified fear, keeping the slaves' minds full of doubt. Rationally, they could have overpowered their guards at the cost of a few of their number... but if he kept each one terrified that they'd be the one to die, controlling the whole mob of them was all too easy.

As they crossed the no-man's land outside the Outpost's rapidly-crumbling walls, Tu'teggacha relaxed his concentration slightly so that he could look out for a vessel they could commandeer to get back to the fleet. With the Brotherhood's fighters now in the skies, aerial duels between gunships and uglies were turning Batuu's lower atmosphere into a chaotic zone of death. The distraction would allow more Brotherhood shuttles to escape with their sentient cargoes... but that didn't help him unless he was on one of them.

Finally he spotted it: just beyond the forest's edge, in a circular clearing, was an old light freighter being prepped for takeoff. The Ebruchi steered his line of slaves in that direction, alerting the marauders that the time was coming when they would need to kill. It appeared that some smuggler had made camp in the glade, perhaps more comfortable outside the Smuggler Queen's walls, and was now frantically trying to get his ship ready to depart. Too late, Tu'teggacha thought, his mouth tendrils contorting into an Ebruchi sneer.

It was just the smuggler, a middle-aged Twi'lek man, crewing the ship; the rest were droids, a pair of binary loadlifters and an astromech. They were moving pallets of cargo into the hold as fast as they could, their greed still overpowering their common sense. Tu'teggacha didn't know what the cargo was and didn't much care. He moved to the front of the line, so that he could be the first to enter the clearing. Before the Twi'lek even saw him, the Ebruchi reached out through the Force, breaching the man's mind with ease.

In his head, the smuggler was twelve again, watching his mother die of a fever. Then he was fifteen, trying to drag his drunken father home from the bar, the other patrons aiming kicks and jeers at them. Then nineteen, trying to bury his father alone, finding that his spade wouldn't break the ground. Then twenty-four, reading the note from the woman he'd been about to propose to... the woman who'd emptied his account of credits and vanished. Then it was back to the start, over and over, an unending barrage of agonizing memories.

The smuggler screamed, and Tu'teggacha smiled. Too easy. "Get them aboard."