Annihilation End of an Era: AC Annihilation of Korriban

[Fiolette Fortan]

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RGNV Warspite, Resurgent II-class, Battlecruiser RGNV Imperial, Imperial II-class, Star Destroyer RGNV Illustrious, Imperial II-class, Star Destroyer RGNV Vindicator, Vindicator III-class, Carrier Cruiser RGNV Valorous, Vindicator III-class, Carrier Cruiser RGNV Valiant, Vindicator III-class, Carrier Cruiser RGNV Vittoria, Vindicator III-class, Carrier Cruiser RGNV Seawolf, Seawolf III-class, Heavy Frigate RGNV Spearhead, Seawolf III-class, Heavy Frigate RGNV Swift, Seawolf III-class, Heavy Frigate RGNV Sparrow, Seawolf III-class, Heavy Frigate RGNV Dagger, Dagger V-class, Assault Frigate RGNV Daring, Dagger V-class, Assault Frigate RGNV Dauntless, Dagger V-class, Assault Frigate RGNV Dragon, Dagger V-class, Assault Frigate RGNV Firedrake, Fortan IV-class, Heavy Corvette RGNV Fearless, Fortan IV-class, Heavy Corvette RGNV Furious, Fortan IV-class, Heavy Corvette RGNV Raskova, Raskova IV-class, Assault Corvette RGNV Ryabova, Raskova IV-class, Assault Corvette RGNV Rudneva, Raskova IV-class, Assault Corvette RGNV Raspopova, Raskova IV-class, Assault Corvette RGNV Rachkevich, Raskova IV-class, Assault Corvette RGNV Mukhtiar, Muhktiar III-class, Attack Corvette RGNV Myrmidon, Muhktiar III-class, Attack Corvette RGNV Machai, Muhktiar III-class, Attack Corvette RGNV Melinoe, Muhktiar III-class, Attack Corvette RGNV Minos, Muhktiar III-class, Attack Corvette RGNV Makednos, Muhktiar III-class, Attack Corvette RGN 2nd Corvette Squadron; Alpha Group, Bolt V-class, Fast Corvette (4) Delta Group, Bolt V-class, Fast Corvette (4) Gamma Group, Bolt V-class, Fast Corvette (4) RGN 5th Corvette Squadron; Bravo Group, Bolt V-class, Fast Corvette (4) Echo Group, Bolt V-class, Fast Corvette (4) Kilo Group, Bolt V-class, Fast Corvette (4) RGN 7th Corvette Squadron; Victor Group, Bolt V-class, Fast Corvette (4) 1 Victor Queen Group, Bolt V-class, Fast Corvette (4) Sierra Group, Bolt V-class, Fast Corvette (4)

Once there had been Admiral Yvarro and her charge against the Rogue Sith. It was said of her then, Immortals to the right of her, Immortals to the left of her, and Immortals in front of her. Boldly did she ride into the jaws of death, and into the mouth of hell. Boldly did she die, the great Admiral Yvarro. While she was not there for the men and women who wore their uniforms so proudly, she could feel their deaths as the Force cried out - and voices were silenced. "Half a league, half a league, half a league onward." Quietly she quoted for while those Mawites made their aim and all their charges from they went.

The Bolt Squadrons boldly rode, forward they went and thus she quoted, "all in the valley of Death. Rode the six hundred, forward, the light brigade. Charge for the guns!" No more than three would fight and die, no more than the crews of those vessels so bravely die. Their ships, their final breath charged so precisely into the Mawite lines. It was Victor Group that suffered those losses and it was Victor Group's lone survivor who punished their foe with a barrage of plasma torpedoes just as they moved off to the west, left to the Galidraani lines and the Raskovas sent their bombs with an aim to bury their enemies, all.

"Into the valley of Death. Rode the six hundred. Forward the light brigade was there a man dismayed?" A poem known throughout the Galidraani men and women. A poem written so long ago, a poem that did them well even now, most especially now. TIE Bombers and their escorts flew behind the main group and went upon their task. Fighters were crushed, escorts perished in the skies and the blood of Galidraan fell to the rusted earth of Korriban. Such was the hell of their charge. "Not though the soldier knew someone had blundered. Theirs not to make reply, theirs not to reason why theirs but to do and die. Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred."

There and again they disappeared from the skies, bombs had been delivered and Galidraan now paid its price with life and death to enter the valley of death, forward they did charge, and forward again they would return. Bombing Group Harris faded from view but reassured, they would return. Captain Fortan ordered additional fighters and bombers to descend, to join their brethren to form up with the charge to honor the light brigade, the noble six hundred.

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Allies: Enedina Tal | Hiran Avola | Siyarr Ahan-Mitharran | Erskine Barran | Rurik Fel | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Captain Albrecht Herlock | Aerarii Tithe

Interacting with: DECEASED Aron Gowrie

Opponents: Tu'teggacha | KV-6000 | Derix Tirall | Marlon Sularen |
Open to Interaction: The Mongrel
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[Isla Draellix-Kobitana]

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Location: Outer perimeter of Korriban system
Faction: Ashlan Crusade
Allies: Caarlyle Rausgeber Zark San Tekka Captain Albrecht Herlock Tristan Evore Relynia Sorrene - AC/NIO
Enemies: Tu'teggacha Carnifex - KV-6000 - Marlon Sularen Derix Tirall TSE/MAW

Spoiler

Fleet composition
Noble Crusader Class Battlecruisers
Pillar of Retribution (Flagship) - engaged with fatalis
Divine Purpose - engaged with fatalis
Bane of Darkness (reserve)

Dragoon Class Battle carriers
Fist of Demici - moving to engage eternal rule
Rapture - engaged with fatalis
Holy Choir (reserve)

Templar class star destroyers
6 in primary fleet, 3 in reserve fleet

Bastion class planetary invasion ship
3 in reserve fleet

Nebula-ii class star destroyers
4 in primary fleet, 2 in reserve fleet

Dominion Class escort frigate
16 in primary fleet, 8 in reserve fleet
Principality class corvettes
16 in primary fleet, 8 in reserve fleet
Warden anti-starfighter frigates
6 in primary fleet

Hangar equipped vessels have full complements of following starfighters (50/50 split)
Pegasus interceptors
Phoenix multi-role starfighters

Isla smiled as she saw one of the Samael's break apart on her holo, but it was a smile that knew the cost of such a loss, how many more lives would be lost today. She continued to monitor the situation on that flank carefully. The patrolling interceptors had done an excellent job along with the corvettes and the maw were pulling back, apart from one ship which was picking up speed and approaching the templars. a crude but bold move, she watched intently as the distance close.

"Captain" shouted an officer above the system failure alarms on the bridge, the ship having been bombarded continuously with ion strikes "One of the enemy ships is on collision course" The captain acknowledged and immediately put the cumbersome ship into evasive manoeuvres, but the Templar class was a whale, it lazily lifter its prow, attempting to allow the frigate to pass under it, but it couldn't move fast enough. Further alarms went off as the two ships collided, metal grinding against metal and systems going down across the board. For seconds it looked liked the impact was over, but then the mawite ship detonated, ripping a massive hole in the side of the well armoured ship. flames and debris spilled in all directions into the void and the ship emergency lights came on.

"Status report now!" shouted the captain.
"We are in bad shape, main power is offline, the meteor cannons are gone, 43 percent of out port batteries are disabled or completely gone, structural integrity is failing, shields in that section are down to 6%..."
The captain stopped him, there was no need to continue "swing us around if we have the power, put the mawites in our starboard arc so they don't just finish us off, power and shields need to be back online yesterday"

Thousands of miles away in the Ashlan centre, Isla cursed at the damage done, a single frigate had crippled one of her great star destroyers. She ordered her corvettes to break of their pursuit of the Samaels and engage them at range as they retreat, there was no reason to send them in closer to the enemy fleet, and the cover they could provide to the crippled templar would be invaluable right now. The second templar continued its barrage of the fatalis with its meteor cannon, but switched its barbettes and heavy turblasers on to the fleeing frigates.

On the opposite flank, the Dominion frigates were continuing to take fire from the Fatalis, they were not designed to withstand this amount of firepower, but they continued to push, with the two Crucifix class approaching the Divine Purpose, the dominions and the Rapture needed to cause as much damage as possible, they continued to fire everything they had into the closest Crucifix. Out of nowhere the lead dominion exploded in a blinding flash, something from the Fatalis had gotten through, it wasn't completely apparent, but the reactor had gone critical and ripped the whole ship apart, giving no warning for the doomed crews. several other dominions were also under pressure from the barrage, and their squadron leader was doubtful whether they could continue on.

Isla swore again as she watched the Spear explode, she looked out the window and shouted at the now visible hulk of the Fatalis "Stop destroying my ships you Bogan scum!!" So far the Pillar of Retribution had only taken fire from a single Crucifix, and while the shields were beginning to weaken and the hull was beginning to show fatigue from bleedthrough, most of the critical systems were still fully functional. "Flight Lieutenant," she spoke to one of her staff, noticing an opening "The enemy has pulled back some of its fighters behind it for whatever reason, please engage our full complement, have them throw everything at the autocannons on the Fatalis, its shields are low and we need those guns silenced if our frigates have any chance of survival" It was a risk, but one Isla needed to take, the Pillar had 7 squadrons Phoenix multi-role, she would also send at least one squadron of pegasus to escort them. Theoretically, the shorter range should reduce the reaction time of the enemy defenders.

Isla noticed an alert on her holo from the Divine Purpose It was suffering badly, beset by enemy starfighters, multiple barrages from the two Cruxifix and now pods streaking towards it. She shuddered, he mind again taken back the the horrors over Ninn. There was something new though, something only other Ashlan commanding officers would recognise, the Divine Purpose was suffering a radiation leak. To casual observers this would indicate just damage to weapon systems, which was apparent all over the starboard side of the ship. But the decay of this specific radiation was designed to indicate something, a hidden signal that the ship had uncontrolled enemy personnel loose on the ship. She had been boarded.

On the Divine Purpose, alarms were sounding all over the ship, her depleted point defence batteries, her CAP and the sheer thickness of her hull had prevented a lot of enemy soldiers getting on board, but dozens of pods now dotted the sides of the Ashlan vessel. The Ashlan Marines had prepred to received boarders, and now nervously looked a the long beak lie structures invading their ships. As they opened, the Ashlans assaulted, trying to make clearing the pods as hard as possible, but the Kitiakira came out aggressively and the battle was brutal on both sides. The Ashlans had the home ground advantage, their specific drills making sure they knew the best way to defend their ships, but they were not at full strength yet, and were not able to get to most of the pods before the enemy charged out and set up their own positions. Gunfire reverberated up and down the white walled corridors of the Ashlan warship.

KV-6000
Far from the melee that was going on, the battle carrier Fist of Demici had finally entered range of the Eternal Rule and its heavy guns began to fire. This battlecarrier had had the time to ensure all of its starfighters were in space before engaging during its long trek across the system. Waves of Phoenix lined to make runs on the Rule once it began taking shield damage, and squadrons of Pegasus buzzed in loops, ready to pounce on any incoming Maw ships, these two ships seemed fairly evenly matched, and its captain thanked his luck that the City of Ashes and Tortured Rebirth were also making their presence felt.

Spoiler: Active Engagements

• Fatalis fleet
  • Pillar of retribution (taking minor fire - shields taking hits - superficial bleedthrough damage - firing on fatalis, ions now also on Fatalis as frigates retreat)
  • divine purpose (taking fire -shields low, damage to port weapon systems - firing on fatalis, lending arc based support to other ships - primarily incoming Crucifixes)
  • rapture (taking fire - fore shields recovered - minor damage all fighters launched, significant casualties - firing on lead Crucifix)
  • Templar 1 (Crippled - loss of most port systems, swinging round to bring starboard into arc - on emergency power)
  • Templar 2 (taking minor fire - superficial damage - firing on Fatalis)
  • 6 dominions (firing on lead crucifix, 2 destroyed, 3 with weakened shields, Minor damage)
  • 6 principalities (engaging Samael frigates at range - holding position near templars)
  • 2 wardens (following battlecruisers)
  • Phoenix bombers and Pegasus Interceptors making run on Fatalis, attempting to strike autocannon battery
  • Pegasus interceptors from Rapture on CAP around Templars - some casualties, fighters using Templar bays to rearm
• Eternal rule
  • Fist of Demici (opening fire - starfighters launcher)

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[Constantine Oliva]

Allies: GA, NIO, AC, Relynia Sorrene Aerarii Tithe Dracken Pryce
Enemies: BotM, TSE, Tu'teggacha Marlon Sularen Derix Tirall

Spoiler: Pickett Line 253

Revenge
Glory
Raptor
10 Warrior-IIIs

“Sir, we’ve managed to decipher some of the enemy messages. It appears The fleet currently engaging Admiral Price is the Maw Irregular Fleet.”

I closed my eye. A gloved hand gently touched my eyepatch, remembering how I’d received that injury. The Namadii Corridor, where I’d been ambushed, what? Almost a year ago? The Maw Irregulars been there, hunting. They’d done that. They’d been the ones who killed nearly a hundred of my own men. I opened my eye again, a grim expression holding on my face.

“It’s time for the Revenge to begin living up to her name. Order the line to move into position to support Pryce’s fleet. I want our fighter wings to protect the Ouroboros while our own Corvettes take up position to engage the enemy fighters. As soon as the corvettes engage, our fighters must pull back to their respective vessel. The Revenge and Glory will fall in and assist in bombarding the enemy flagship at maximum range, while the Raptor will fall in behind the Ouroboros.”

“Yessir, transmitting orders now.”

The officers staffing Revenge’s bridge were all survivors of the battles at Namadii and Csilla. I had made special requests for them. I knew they were driven soldiers, especially against my chosen foe...They desired revenge almost as much as I did.

“Sir? I have some concerns about one of the enemy ships. That massive one, that’s holding back. We’re hearing some chatter on the enemy comms, it seems to be considered some kind of ‘weapon.” Sensors are also registering a massive power build up.”

They couldn’t have another weapon. Not like what had been at Csilla. That thing must have taken most of the Brotherhood’s industrial capacity for at least a decade to make. Unless...They’d been working for much longer than the galaxy at large knew…

“Your concern is noted, lieutenant. Keep an eye on it.”

One more task.

“Open a line to the High Admiral.”

A moment later, I was speaking to my superior.

“Sir, this is Commodore Oliva of the 253rd. We are moving to support your forces.”

 

[Siyarr Ahan-Mitharran]

3RD POST
CLEAVER
KORRIBAN
OBJECTIVE 2: BLOODSOAKED VALLEY

Galidraani Forces: Enedina Tal Hiran Avola DECEASED Aron Gowrie Fiolette Fortan

Allies (NIO): Rurik Fel Aemilio Valaar

Allies (AC/GA/EE/SJC/PO): Lonnie Kai Dagon Kaze Damsy Callat
Ingrid L'lerim Starlin Rand Aelina Corsanis
Darth Petrichor Creuat Mikhail Grayson Sergeant Omen

Enemies (Sith Remnants): Vector Monk Laertia Io Anja Doreva Darth Orcus
Chasianna Ana Malixar Caulder Dune
Dis Darth Voracitos Crane Baxa

Enemies (BOTM/NSO): The Mongrel Alars Keto Tegan Starfall

TANGO DOWN: GALIDRAANI SPECIAL-FORCES ON KORRIBAN V - THE HEAT OF THE CRUCIBLE

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'TAKE COVER!!!! ORDNANCE INCOMING!!!!'

The firestorm tech would explode, booming into life fewer than two-hundred yards away from the crumbling redoubt's north gate itself, stopping fewer than fifty yards away as all the troops manning the north wall jumped down behind it to shield themselves from the blistering heatwaves, embers and smoke alike. Though it was still at a safe distance from their positions, the Red Jackals had no choice but to huddle behind the crumbling walls until the sands between the Deathgangs and themselves had become glassy mounds on the contested surface, and only then would they be able to return to their posts without risk of injury. But in the next minute or so, the soldiers of,"CLEAVER COMPANY.", would have no other choice but to huddle away from the battlements and the breaches, chatting away with each other in distaste as the burning ordnance swept across the front of New Order's active static-line; all present had dealt with worse in their time with the Galidraani Free-State, regardless of whether it was on the homefront against the Sith-loyalists there, or against the wildest foes in the galaxy.

'Here's my theory, lads! I don't think this were the Maw's doing, pretty sure we'd all be dead now if it were.... And it sure as feth weren't no bloody friendly-fire incident neither! My take? This strike was an act of desperation, one of survival instinct - so I think you can see where me blamin' finger's landin' today.'

'Wait a minute, Flaxton!', the young sniper's spotter cut in as he stepped a little farther back from the heatwaves, finding it hard to believe what he was hearing as the young Northern-Galidraani part of the duo made his case. The silent third would be Gould himself, having not needed a spotter since his own was killed on Serenno, and whilst keeping his corroborations and corrections to himself, the leadership prospect would steel himself for the real fight that was expected to follow the fiery hindrance. Turning to face his friend, the Calavaran spotter continued,'You're not seriously suggestin' it was the Siff-remnants, mate. You're 'aving a bubble if you fink I'm falling f'that noise!', confident he'd stepped back far enough from the steadily-subsiding hazards. In other circumstances entirely, the Calavaran spotter would've been correct, but the random nature in which the firestorm was implemented had seemed too suspect to be just a mere mistake in the spirit of Mawite trial & error, one such that had his young friend suspicious of the sheer random way the blast landed.

'Honestly never known the Brotherhood of the Maw t'be so wasteful, we also know the Galactic Alliance, the Ashlan Crusade and the Silver Jedi aren't so random with their strikes.... So who else could it be but-'

'CLEAVER COMPANYYYYYYY!!!! READY UP, THE TUATHS ARE ADVANCING - AN' WE'RE TAGGIN' ALONG AS SOON AS IT'S SAFE TO MOVE WITH THEM!!!'

As Doyle saw the talkative trio standing to attention, he smiled under his helmet, choosing to relent a little in addressing the subordinates at the far-western segment of the north wall as the Leftenant endearingly exclaimed,'At ease, gentlemen! Staaaand easy - aaaaand relax yersels for feth's sake!', in kindly jest. Descending a rusty iron fire-escape ladder nearby, the Woad in command waited until his feet were on the ground before continuing, and the subordinates walking in his direction were eager enough not to mind waiting a little for a further word from their Company Commander, checking the open gaps in the perimeter wall before stepping out into the fire-exposed open ground of the redoubt's northern courtyard. Then, after Cleaver landed on the ground, he would fix the sling-positioning of his rifle as he continued,'Don't need t'worry 'bout Lady Enedina here, fellas. The esteemed Jackal One doesn't don the drillmaster's ways in places like this, as she slips such habits on deployments like they were the most-unwieldy of noble cloaks.... An' she's shadowing Headhunter Company this time around anyways, so you're good to slouch for now-', before being interrupted by a Carrack-born subordinate in the lookout-tower above.

'INCOMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!!'

TANGO DOWN: GALIDRAANI SPECIAL FORCES ON KORRIBAN VI - SUSPENSE AND HOPE

With confirmation from the brave Carrack in the lookout-tower, the Red Jackals holding the right side of the Galidraani line were able to discern if the random attacks were being ordered in by the Mawites or not, and according to what the Sergeant saw through his scope, it clearly looked like it wasn't the perceived-erratic actions of their intended opponents. By the time the bombardment had stopped, the men and women of Cleaver Company were able to see for themselves if the Carrack sergeant was telling it true or not, and noted that much of the second distraction had hit the Mawite lines almost just as suddenly, which only made the Leftenant want to return to his former place atop the north wall's battlements again. The sounds of tanks roaring down the hill behind them, approaching TIEs from the west, and renewed pressure from their opponents on the Mongrel's mountain was enticing him to see his proofs to join in with his comrades' festivities, climbing up the same ladder he'd climbed down just minutes before.

'We still moving in like before, sir? Feels it would be fun t'get in on the action at this point! Check the western approach, the TIEs are pushing on ahead of the corvettes now, looks like Raskovas from this angle. And it would appear they're moving some over here to bolster our lines from above.'

'The plan remains the same, Gould.... No matter how hairy it gets when we move.', the Woad replied, loosening his rifle's shoulder-sling and enhancing the distance-settings on the scope-sights to see for himself. As soon as the focus was established, Cleaver chuckled to see that the Galidraani TIE squadrons were wasting no time in chasing down their targets on the ground, and wheezing a little by the time he noticed that Gould was correct about the specifics of the corvette-models that were making their way southwest. Returning his gaze to the charging AFVs, Doyle realized he was just in time for the fireworks, keeping his view firmly on the two advancing three-rank wedge formations as they closed the distance between themselves and the Rough Riders beyond, with the latter shifting their positions as best as they could under the eastward-sweeping TIE bombardment. The only thing about the two-pronged charge that troubled Cleaver was the fact the Rough Riders were so willing to gift them the first rise without a fight, hoping the Wildcats were smart enough to smell a trap, but also remembering that Gowrie's lads had plenty tricks of their own to play on the Mawites above, leaving Doyle no choice but to grit his teeth and keep watching as everything else moved around the redoubt with purpose and clear targets to engage.

'Come on, Reed. Show me you've got that Woad in yer blood, show me that cunning we're all known for! I swear I'll get the Jackals movin' if ye play yer hand soon, just dae suhin! Suhin' o' substance at least, Ginge!'

 

[Aemilio Valaar]

V O I D W A L K E R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
KORRIBAN
OBJECTIVE 2: BLOODSOAKED VALLEY
ALLIES: DECEASED Aron Gowrie , Siyarr Ahan-Mitharran , Hiran Avola , Darth Petrichor , Mikhail Grayson , Fiolette Fortan, Damsy Callat , Creuat ,
ENEMIES: Brotherhood of the Maw, Sith Remnants, The Mongrel , Alars Keto , Tegan Starfall , Chasianna

IMPERIAL MILITARY ASSISTANCE GROUP
IN ASSISTANCE TO | ASHLAN CRUSADE

"I heard about the Blue-Hearts and the other Galidraani Battalions while in schooling, believe it or not. I mean, I was there, not really in the Commercial and Administrative Sectors, but I... Saw and fought against the invaders and sympathizers... Neighbors and the like."

Had he not been wearing his helmet, the Captain would've undoubtedly seen his features darken. The words he uttered were said with a downwards inflection to suggest remorse, but deep down, he knew it was a lie. There had always been the drive to do something, and while he may have been idle before the Second Battle of Bastion, he had changed once he saw what effects war had on a populace. The fighting, the riots... I put them down.

"Resolute," Aemilio added a few moments later. "I emulated that to get to where I am now. To get here."

Mind wandering, the next question brought him back before his focus trailed off too far.

"You mean, IMPMAG, where it started? Nah... It's just to classify the forces deployed in aid to one of the other Protocol nations." Shrugging. "Seems to be a thing that happens plenty, may as well give it a proper name."

The idle conversation continued on, careful to keep eyes on their surroundings for any sign of movement. When Reed gave the signal, Aemilio only delivered a no as the men climbed onto the Scout AFV's in preparation of moving out.

And move they did.

Meeting the base of the mountain, Aemilio looked up to the sky, watching as both Corvettes and TIEs descended from the heavens to rain hellish fire on the Mawite defenders.

Detonations sent explosions of hard packed sand into the air, or utterly annihilated it. At Reed's urging, Aemilio clambered up to the gun seat, barely getting out a "Voidwalker!" In the exchange of callsigns before they took their positions.

Death was at his finger tips, but he fired on nothing. Unbeknownst to the riders, many of the anti-tank grenades strategically placed to hinder their approach were indirectly detonated, effectively clearing the path that led further up the hill. Twisting his head, he followed the arcs of artillery tank shells being fired up the mountain.

Everything I've learned. I'm finally in a position to truly use it.

<<Get ready for deployment.>> The earlier sound of the swoop bikes was the only warning he was certain he'd get. For that, his attention was held by the nearing ridges up the mountain. The LMG nest he was sat in slowly trailing over every dune he couldn't see past. Any could have a psychotic marauder waiting to jump atop the AFV.

 

[Dagon Kaze]

ASHLAN CRUSADE
BORN ON A MONDAY vol. I
Issue #7 - Bad Romance w/ Anja Doreva

Finding Danika's twin hilts in his hand widened his eyes in surprise for a brief moment; he'd been on his toes - he still remained so - but there was no scenario in his mind where she relented the hold of her blades. His first impression was that it was a ploy. Deception was an incredibly powerful tool used to its full potential by those who wielded the dark side and Halosis was a master of it. Pure brute force was merely an element in subduing whole worlds. Guile was a must. And she had it in abundance; so much that it overflowed in the devious look of her eyes and smirk.

Those serving the Light had only one answer to it.

"By not seeing you as a droid--" he replied, resolve building up in the blue of his eyes.

Trust.

Yula's warnings echoed in his mind - this savior complex's gonna kill you someday, Dag.

"--but as a human who's still got someone out there missing the real Dani."

He lunged to embrace her in a tight hug.

Blind trust and hope.

The light side of the Force flared from within, enveloping both in Dagon's innate empathy and compassion.

What was it again? More guts than brains, right?

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Darth Petrichor: The Dark Heretic

Allies: Ashlan Crusade & friends

Enemies: Brotherhood of the Maw, Sith, etc.

Interacting with: Ingrid L'lerim

Loadout: Dual curve-hilted lightsabers, armorweave suit, beskar mask

As they walked, Petrichor attentively listened to the stranger's words, attempting to find some clue as to her identity. Then it hit him...

Ah, the Empress, he thought to himself.

"Ingrid, is it? I have heard of your rather unwavering dedication to neutrality."

The statement may have caught her off-guard, as she hadn't had given him much in the way of information. He wasn't without his spies, however. He had taken great care in cultivating a vast network through the years, and the endeavor had proven to be most fruitful. One of his scouts had provided him with intel about the evacuations, and that the Eternal Empire were the ones leading who they could off-world. If this stranger claimed to be the one leading them, then she had to be her.

"Speaking with the dead is something that many strove for on this planet. I did myself, once. Unfortunately, the results were less than satisfying. Perhaps your outcome will be different."

He could sense the roar of battle picking up. No doubt his troops had begun their clash with the Maw, though Petrichor could only sense the endless tide of death.

"As for the answers I seek... well, in truth, I'm not entirely sure, myself. I wish to help my brethren see a different future, preferably with as little bloodshed as possible. I hope to find something here... something I have missed."

It was true, Petrichor wasn't entirely certain what the answer to the conundrum of Sith hostility would be, aside from more hostility. The thing he had omitted, however, was his desire to converse with the spirit of his old master. Though the old devil of a Sith was one of the last entities Petrichor wanted to see again, he hoped that perhaps there would be some piece of information from beyond the grave that could aid him in his mission. Whether that would be the case, however, was yet to be seen...

Jorel Kaan: Commander of the Petrite Host

Allies: DECEASED Aron Gowrie , Mikhail Grayson , Damsy Callat , Hiran Avola , Siyarr Ahan-Mitharran , Aemilio Valaar , AC

Enemies: The Mongrel , Tegan Starfall , Chasianna , Alars Keto , Laertia Io , BotM, Sith

Loadout: Dual curve-hilted lightsabers, armorweave jacket

As the advance continued, Jorel couldn't help but to notice that the Warbands were holding their position. He had hoped they would succumb to their lust for war and stampede down, straight into the Petrite forces. It seemed his enemy had more sense than that. He quickly attempted to calculate their next move, though when dealing with such a chaotic force, such predictions were difficult.

Instead of taking the fight to the attackers, the Warbands unleashing their own hail of fire down upon Jorel's forces, claiming their first casualties. Jorel knew there would be death, though he had to admit, these barbarous enemies of theirs packed a larger punch than originally anticipated. The Exalted did what they could to keep fire off of the Troopers, but still they fell...

That's when fear began to spread.

The Petrite Troopers were strong in both will and physicality, but even they began to falter at the hands of the dark spells of the shamans. Their pace slowed, and their aim faltered. Jorel did not have the means to both fight the ritual and the downpour of laser fire, leaving him with no choice.

"Troopers, stay back until we can deal with their shamans. Get out of range and dig in. We will not lose the entirety of our forces on the first assault!"

They obeyed, pulling back without hesitation. More of them were cut down as they made their tactical retreat, but many managed to make it. As the Troopers descended back down, they found themselves trapped. The dark magicks of Tegan Starfall and her Rhandite sorcerers had called the very sands to fight against them, leaving them trapped upon the hill.

Was there no end to the Maw's treachery?

Jorel fell behind the Exalted as they kept pushing forward, allowing himself to send a telepathic message to the Excerpts that waited along the flanks of the Petrite lines.

It is time.

With those words, the Excerpts of the Petrite Order ignited their lightsabers, littering the edges of the valley in crimson light. The Order had grown in recent months, and what was once a small cadre of Sith heretics had become a small army in their own right. Though he was certain that the Rhandites would prove to be a challenge, Jorel had faith that the Excerpts would see victory. Each of the groups along the flanks began to converge on the Rhandites, hoping to encircle them before closing in for the kill.

As the Excerpts began their advance, Jorel turned his attention fully to those upon the hill. He could feel the darkness welling up within him, ready to burst from within him in a blind rage.

No... I cannot lose control. Not today.

The Chiss knew that if he were to lose concentration, even for a moment, it could be disastrous for them all. No... he would not falter. He could not.

Calling upon the Darkness, Jorel allowed the Force to move through his body as a stream, rather than the raging flood that wanted to expel itself from him. Allowing the Darkness to move through him, he found clarity instead of blind rage. Looking upon the hills above, Jorel held out a hand.

"Exalted, brace yourselves!"

As he spoke, he closed his fist. The Darkness shot outward, cracking the ground beneath the foxholes. If they could not advance, then he would bring the mountain down. Though the ground would likely leave some of their defenses intact, he hoped to at least soften their ranks, allowing their forces to continue pushing forward.

 

[Pietro Demici]

Pietro Demici, Cardinal of Ashla & Commander of the Holy Guard

Location:  Korriban (in orbit)

Loadout: lightsaber, armorweave priest's vestments

Allies:  Isla Draellix-Kobitana , Fiolette Fortan, Aerarii Tithe , Caarlyle Rausgeber, Zark San Tekka, Captain Albrecht Herlock, Tristan Evore, Relynia Sorrene , Constantine Oliva , Dracken Pryce , AC, NIO, GA, SJC

Enemies: Tu'teggacha , Carnifex, Marlon Sularen , KV-6000, Derix Tirall , Aldo Garrick , BotM, Sith

Fleet Composition: The Light of Ruusan, 4x Dominion-class escort frigate, 2x Bastion planetary invasion ship

Part One: The Best Laid Plans

As Pietro listened to the transmission from Vice Chancellor Tithe, he took another look at the field of battle. More and more had shown up to join the fray, and though the Maw had seemed to bring their own fair share of ships, they could not stand against the combined might of the allied forces. Despite this truth, Pietro refused to let his focus slip. He sent a simple message back to Tithe.

<<Indeed. We will have to pick this up once we have cleared the noise.>>

As the transmission was terminated, Pietro looked at data being streamed to his command station. He then turned his attention to the dark void of space once again, watching as the fighters began to launch from the various ships within their fleet. It had been a long time since the cardinal had conducted battle among the stars, but was nonetheless ready.

"Commander, we are going to cut the head off of the serpent. Our primary targets will be the enemy command ships. The sooner we can take them out of the equation, the sooner we can clean up the rabble."

As he spoke, the comms officer shot a look to him.

"Your imminence, it appears that the Maw Irregular Fleet has changed their movements. They are engaging Pryce's fleet. We may have to-"

A large blast of laser fire rocked the ship, sending some of the crew to the floor. Pietro maintained his cold demeanor from his command chair as he looked toward those on the bridge.

"Damage report."

"Shields took a hit, but are holding."

The game had finally begun.

Part Two: In the Thick of It

The battle continued raging on as Pietro's fleet made began a flanking maneuver. They had taken care to stay out of the bulk of the fight, though their shields were running low. Pietro looked upon the fight with a resolute calm, though behind the calm was the storm he was waiting to unleash.

"Your imminence, the Maw have attempted to engage one of the Grand Admiral's Templar-class ships. It looks like one of their ships is on a collision course."

The maneuver seemed to be an act of desperation, though Pietro feared a greater threat was on the horizon.

"Put me through to Grand Admiral Draellix, now."

A channel was quickly opened.

<<Grand Admiral, this is cardinal Demici. We will do what we can to ensure your safety and that of your fleet, though we may need assistance. I am working on a potential solution. I will have the marines standing by should you need their support. Hold them back as long as you can. We will attempt to move toward the Maw's flank and eliminate their retreating ships. May Ashla be with you. Demici out!>>

Another channel was quickly opened, this time to Tithe.

<<Vice-Chancellor Tithe. It seems that the Maw is attempting to send one of their ships straight into one of the Grand Admiral's ships. I do not wish her fleet to be stuck fighting on two fronts. Should they commit to a boarding action, I request your aid in keeping the rest of the Maw forces off of the ship, so that the boarding parties may be repelled. I am moving my forces to pick off as many ships on the peripheries as I can. If we can position ourselves appropriately, I believe we may have a shot at pushing them back.>>

As the transmission ended, the cardinal stood from his chair.

"All ships are to sweep around the Maw. We are to catch as many of those retreating ships as possible in a crossfire. We must not allow them to regroup! We must make haste. We will prevail! Ashla wills it!"

​

 

[Iasha Rha]

​

The scream felt like a thousand needles prying into her mind, peeling away the layers of her consciousness. She stood paralysed, unable to move, unable to express the agony that surged through her skull. Time became a blur, extending and contracting at once. She didn't know if the pain had just begun or if it was the only truth she had ever known.

Then, as if nothing she experienced had ever occurred.

As if waking from a dream.

The bowl dropped from her hands as she stepped back and reached up to cover her lips. Quickly, she looked around herself and absorbed the reality into which she had manifested. All that remained of her fellow acolytes were ash-stained robes and pale dust scattered underneath the mist. The air cut her lungs with every breath, yet felt laden with an electric charge.

There was something dangerous about this place.

Taking one more step back, she tried to look behind her to localise the nearest exit, but her attention was seized by a presence she had not yet allowed herself to acknowledge. It grasped Iasha's attention and forcefully drew her line of sight towards it just in time for the apparently immovable to become mobile.

The wrapped cloth quaked, ash unsettled from within its fibres as a tucked flap unfurled itself. No longer constrained, a second tuck eased open in the opposite direction. Released from their grasp, more fabric spilled out. Beneath the fabric, something stirred. First it was flexible and serpentine, but soon the shapes of shoulders, arms and legs became apparent within the bundle. The bundle changed again, instead of unfurling, it stretched up until it stood as a pillar of night among the flickering flames.

The very peak of the pillar fell back, revealing grey skin, hairless, with faded tattoos, and scarred with silver lines in the shape of branches stretching out in infinity. Iasha had seen the same pattern before, but only ever on corpses.

"You have done well, acolyte."

Iasha instinctively fell to one knee and bowed her head.

"When is this?" The figure asked, inspecting one of her hands.

"867 ABY" "We are on Korriban, which is under threat by the Ashlan Crusade, among others. The Empire has fallen and the Sith are divided."

Iasha looked up, hoping to catch a glimpse of a reaction from the figure, but it simply nodded and looked at the faded murals.

"What does it mean to be Sith, acolyte?"

Alina Tremiru Romi Jade

 

[Coren Starchaser]

“Our duty is to help those that need it most. To keep balance of the Force and the Light. We can’t be the heroes that holovids make us out to be!” He kept his voice as even keeled as he could, but not allowing his volume to not punctuate his point. One Jedi, even an Order of Jedi could only do so much, give so much, be in so many places. The histories and legends he was seeing of the Clone Wars and the Yuuzhan Vong invasion, and even his own past with the first Alliance. The Jedi would experience burn out on a focused war effort.

The way to mitigate that was to strike as Jedi, not as soldiers.

“We are not soldiers, Laertia! I failed to lead by example years ago, and it pushed the galaxy into the hands of the Sith and darkness!” His words were followed by nothing but truth, and his full belief. The Light was shining through him as she spoke. “They are not the same evil, but the Bryn’adul are not of the Force, they’re beyond anything we can handle.” Jedi were meant to be beacons of hope, not the warriors on the front line.

“Look around you. You have seen the wars! For all our gifts, Jedi are not super soldiers!”

Though he did not feel his words were going to land on her. There was no way to discuss when anyone, no matter how competent and sane, were in a rage. This was why Jedi could not become soldiers. They were supposed to keep the peace, become protectors. As she vowed for his death, the Jedi Master took a deep breath, calling on the Force, even in the turmoil and roiling of the sea that it was here on this world, in the presence of this lost soul.

So be it.

As she came at him, her lightsaber swinging, her speed and reflexes enhanced, he was immediately on the back foot. That was fine, he was a Jedi. He was one with the Force and the Force was with him. With the flurry of blows, Coren was moving, fully defensive and displaying his rare capabilities with a lightsaber. When it came to fighting most enemies, he was going for blood, he was immersed in Force, trying to bring down the darkness. Now, to keep back Laertia Io and her assault, he had to dig deep. The Force was around him, and he was being defensive.

Using the Force in his combat was second nature, scattered into the duel, there would be a blast of the Force to attempt to trip of Laertia, to freeze the lightsaber mid-swing, even a barrier of pure Force energy to intercept a potentially critical swing from her.

The darkness of the world did not make pulling on the Force in this way easy. The anger in Laertia even worse.

“Let go of your anger, Laertia. Killing me won’t remedy the disaster I created.” He said, or more pushed to her in the Force.

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

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

Side: Attacker
Objective: Save Sith artefacts; try to save Adrian
Location: Valley of the Dark Lords, Korriban
Equipment: 2x Striith vibrosword | The Soulsabers | Brynja coat and hat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Writing with: Darth Petrichor

[ Last Days… ] ​

"To you, Lady Ingrid, or Lady L'lerim." she corrected the man. "Mr…?" she asked.

She wasn't really surprised to be recognized. She knew exactly that the Eternal Empire was not significant, yet she was a ruler who had long been an ally of the Sith Empire. Of course, it could have been listed for a long time where and what made her familiar. But she did not deny that if she wanted to be incognito, she would not come in her own form, but in something else. Last but not least, with her coat of arms on her hat and on her right arm's armband also made it clear that she was a member of the Eternal Empire. Although there were no honours or rank insignia on the coat, it was very common knowledge about the woman that she never wore them, even though she had quite a few military merits.

"I know it's commonplace to do this, even though I’m not looking for an ancient soul here, but someone who just died only a few years ago. At Bastion during the events of Kyber Dark." she explained.

She could have actually found him at Netherworld, but if she was here anyway, she would have tried this place first. As they walked, she nodded to the man looking for something for a more peaceful future. In fact, Ingrid wanted something like that, a more peaceful future where people don’t kill each other, at least not because of the Force.

"Yes, this is a great goal that would be good to achieve." she replied honestly. "Yet how do you intend to achieve this? What does different, more "peaceful" mean in your view?" she inquired.

Maybe their view might even agree… There were few people for whom this was true, but there were always people who were open to it like Zachariel Steelblood or just Beltran Rarr .

 

[Anja Doreva]

ALLIES: What allies?
ENEMIES: Those that stand in my way
GA GA OO LALA: Dagon Kaze
GEAR:

Spoiler

Lightsabers - Oh look!
Phrik blades
Phrik dagger
Dressed to kill
The Ash Hellions led by Samron Gerron - chilling in side tunnel

O~~>HUSH<~~O​

The regret was there.

She had lost much after that great conquest that she and her mentor had led. That was the reason she was here now. She tried to convince herself it was purely for that small little talisman buried with Era Knox. But that small little bug deep down just wanted to say goodbye to the body before this planet got razed to the ground.

She was alone in the Galaxy now.

And that is what she latched onto at Dag's words of someone out there missing the real her.

It struck a nerve.

The poor fool.

When he lunged forward to embrace her, the ichor ball hit him square in the chest to send him sprawling back.
"What makes you think there is anyone still alive to mourn my fall, darling?" she asked, her voice echoing eerily with the hollowness of the Nether. Her dark hair was whipping around her face as if caught in the middle of a whirlwind, yet there was no draft in the tunnel.

Using the Force, she summoned the two hilts back into her hand effortlessly.
"There is no one left to disappoint, Mister Kaze. All I have left is power." she said as she ignited the amethyst blade once more. "Your conviction is strong, young Jedi. But is it strong enough? How far would you go to draw out the Dark?" she asked as she watched him and waited for that anger to take hold of the Jedi.

To exploit it.

Waiting for him to give up hope and retaliate.

She could not, no, would not admit to him that he had chipped the stone hard surface slightly. If anyone knew that she was merely mortal, it would unseat her completely from her fragile throne. To allow even a slither of Light through, would be the end of her.

To have power is to be alone.

Cold and alone.

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Korriban, Mawite Excavations
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw | Tegan Starfall | Chasianna | Alars Keto
Foes: Ashlan Crusade, NIO, GA | DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Darth Petrichor | Mikhail Grayson | Damsy Callat | Hiran Avola | Siyarr Ahan-Mitharran | Aemilio Valaar | Laertia Io | Fiolette Fortan

Northeast: The Petrite Front
​

Khazzak smiled as the Petrite advance stalled, the red-armored troopers falling back from their attempt to storm the slope. The combination of withering downhill fire and the potent fear-sorcery of the shamans had been too much for them... and in their tactical retreat, they had blundered right into the Rhandite sandstorm. They had underestimated the Maw by assuming they would behave as screaming, battle-mad barbarians with no sense of strategy, and their assumptions had undone them. Khazzak and his shamans cheered and howled, chanting praises to their dark gods, cursing their foes.

And then the sides of the valley lit up crimson.

The chanting stilled as the Mawite warriors realized the extent of what they faced. How many laser-swords could these Sith warriors muster? The apparent answer struck Khazzak to his core. He could only hope that the fearsome Rhandites would be able to hold out against this deadly attack, for he feared to test his own forces against so many saber-wielders. He had an unrelenting army, secure in their faith and fearless in the face of death, but against an army of literal Sith... He prayed softly, feeding on his own fear now and projecting it down the mountain, though he knew it would not hold those warriors back.

As the shaman reached out through the Force, he sensed the incoming attack. His eyes widened as he recognized the magnitude of the dark power being wielded by the enemy general, the shadowy blade of an iron will. "Find cover!" he screamed, scrambling over rocks and sand as a wave of umbral might lashed out at the hillside itself. A wave of blackness sheared off several jagged outcrops and rock formations at the base, sending them tumbling down. For an instant, everything seemed to hang in the air, moving in slow motion. Then the slope rumbled like a waking rancor, and the sand and gravel shifted.

Khazzak lashed out with the Force, pushing an invisible fist against the landslide as he scrambled out of the way. By the time he reached the relative safety of a nearby ravine, blood ran freely from his nose, and his chest heaved with exertion. And that had just been to save himself; standing against so massive an act of nature as a landslide was not so easy as the holovids might make it look. Glancing back at the churning dust cloud, the shaman swore. The defensive positions on the hillside had been badly compromised, with many marauders flung about like ragdolls or buried alive in their foxholes. Accursed Sith!

There was only one consolation in this situation: the landslide would make things more difficult for the enemy, too. In the confusion of the sandstorm at the bottom of the hill, the retreating Petrite troops would have no way to see the huge chunks of rock that had come bouncing down the hill, boulders that might now add crushed crimson-armored troopers to the Mawites they'd already squashed. And the hillside, once relatively stable, was now a quagmire of loose sand and gravel, shifting beneath the feet of anyone who attempted to walk on it. And if you slipped, if you started sliding and rolling down the hill...

There was nothing to grab onto, all the way to the bottom.

Though it would be difficult indeed for the Petrite forces to make the climb, the Mawite defensive position was also lost; the foxholes and rocky outcrops were now unusable, utterly buried by the landslide. Raising his grisly totem-staff, Khazzak rallied what survivors he could find amid the cloud of kicked-up sand, which was nearly as blinding as the storm the Rhandites had unleashed. "Fall back to the edges of the slope," he ordered. It was their only chance. They couldn't get back up the ruined hillside, to the excavation, without vehicles or somehow stabilizing the terrain. They'd have to make their stand on the crags.

At least the enemy would face the same difficulty in their climb... though the numbers of the Tarar were badly reduced now, and holding would be a difficult task indeed. They would not be able to keep up the same intensity of plasma fire, and with the shamans scattered, the effects of the wall of fear would be diminished. Khazzak just hoped there were enough of them left to meet the fearsome Exalted blade to blade. He could scarcely believe that the situation could be more radically changed... right up until the NIO bombs began to fall, and the already-broken hillside erupted with shattered rock and glassed sand.

"Dark Gods, witness our boldness at the end," Khazzak prayed, watching the onslaught from above take shape. The famously-powerful NIO fleet was not content to make its presence known only in the outer reaches of the system, apparently; it was also prepared to bring in close support, smashing through Mawite positions that were giving ground forces trouble. But the Mawite air forces were fighting back hard. Before the shaman's eyes, an enemy corvette was lanced apart by the spider cruisers... and twisted down right at him. He dove aside as the hulk of the NIO vessel slammed into the shifting sands of the hill.

A makeshift wall amid the unstable gravel... or perhaps a bridge.

-------------------------------------

High Above: The Air War
​

The northeast hillside wasn't the only one exploding.

The Galidraani forces streaked in fearlessly, raining fiery death on the Mawite forces below with pinpoint precision. Bombs fell to the northwest, and confident Lugubraa were blown apart in sprays of greenish blood and pallid, wormlike flesh. Bombs fell to the south, and maimed orbaks collapsed beneath their riders, and swoop engines choked on smoke and shrapnel. Bombs fell to the northeast, and a slope already broken apart by Petrite sorcery collapsed even further, unstable sands fusing into glass as jagged fragments of rock fell like deadly rain. Bombs fell on the excavation itself, collapsing scaffolds.

And so what should have remained buried... now would.

Though The Mongrel, locked single-mindedly in his contest with the Lord-Colonel, hardly reacted to the devastation (he'd never cared much for the trinkets they'd been sent to unearth anyway), the airborne Mawite forces fought back tooth and nail. "Keep firing," Commander Arukovi ordered, his crimson eyes locked to a horizon now filled with NIO ships. "Bring them down, bring them all down, or we'll meet the Avatars trying!" Every last weapon on the Spider Cruisers was focused on the incoming corvettes, determined to rip them out of the sky, while Divine Eagles hunted the enemy bombers with lethal precision.

It was a doomed venture, of course. Hopelessly outnumbered.

But to a brainwashed zealot like Arukovi, the chances of victory didn't matter, only the slaughter he could unleash before his inevitable death. When the first enemy corvette went down, its shattered hull plowing into a cliffside just beyond the excavation hill, the crew whooped their elation, chanting to the Three Avatars. A second one went down moments later, raked stem to stern by a trio of beam cannons, and slammed into the hill just below the Mawite positions. Huge plumes of sand kicked up around the crashing starships, mixing with the smoke that rose from the battle. Everything on the ground was chaos.

Though the bombers and corvettes were focusing their fire on the Mawite positions below, they had enough firepower left over to fight back against the air forces harassing them. Even the supernaturally-skilled Knyght pilots of the Divine Eagles were not invulnerable. After half a dozen brutal passes at the enemy squadrons, a quarter of the craft were down, and more damaged. If only they could spare three times as many from the battle above, the entire air attack might have been thwarted... but Arukovi knew he'd been lucky to get any reinforcements at all. The Fatalis's fleet wasn't faring any better.

The spider cruisers were taking a pounding as well, despite their heavy armor... and the one on the Chiss officer's right flank had it the worst of all. As the bloodied Victor Group of corvettes began to pull away, arming plasma torpedoes, that cruiser's crew understood their final calling, their final act of service to the Maw. "War! Death! Rebirth!" Arukovi heard over the comm, and the cruiser lurched forward, on an intercept course with the enemy corvette. The two vessels collided like giants of legend, the spider cruiser's legs unfurling from its hull and wrapping around the corvette as it dragged it to the rocky ground.

A colossal explosion flew up as both ships shattered on the rocks.

And then there were two, Arukovi thought, glancing at his dwindling forces. They'd managed to take out three of the four corvettes in Victor Group, but the fourth was taking its revenge. Plasma torpedoes slammed into the western side of the hill, scattering entrenched Lugubraa mercenaries and blowing apart defensive positions. This was a last stand now; if any Mawite on Korriban couldn't see that already, he or she soon would. There was no escape and no chance of victory... only an opportunity to rip at the foe with tooth and claw, and to be delivered into the Avatars' new galaxy dripping with the blood of foes.

And perhaps to witness the Avatar of War unleashed high above...

"They'll be coming around for another pass," Arukovi said, steeling himself for the inevitable end. "Fight them, kill them, hold nothing back! Today we will meet the Dark Three, and They will judge us by the unbeliever blood we have spilled. When the gods bring out the great scales of judgement, let the weight of the blood you have shed far exceed that of your own body! Paradise awaits!" All around the cruiser, at every duty station, his troops stomped their feet slammed their fists against the bulkheads. He was proud to die for the Maw beside them. "War! Death! Rebirth!" he cried, and the crew echoed his fierce chant.

Without fear or hesitation, they faced the next bomber group.

 

[Damsy Callat]

& DAMSY LISTENS // MAWITE DIG
“ROBES” + DREAD BLADE
~ open to interact ~​

At some point in their march, Tall-Dark-and-Grimy had broken away from Damsy to hunker down behind one of the Maw’s hellish blockades, leaving her suddenly in the open. She looked around for some staging ground of her own, then stepped up onto a dust boulder halfway excavated out of the windblown landscape. In the process, she most likely flashed the horizon, but it was doubtful anyone was looking. There was no reason to focus on a shaman no one had reason to not think was an established and loyal if not crazed Mawite. No, the enemies, they were down the hill and over the valley bottom a comfortable ways away yet.

Damsy reached down to adjust her loincloth. Never thought I’d miss bodysuits, she thought idly. Dauntless underarmor was hot and tight, but at least it afforded actual coverage. Actually, anything would have been better than these non-robes. Even a Huttese slave costume, which was saying something because it wouldn’t be much better.

Now what? she thought next, altogether more seriously. Naeelete’s costume hadn’t come with instructions; no hint as to the Tarar’s battle plan; but, then again, it had come with very little in the way of anything. Damsy’s military expertise was often informed by her betters telling her generally what to do. From there, specific tactics were up to her, but she didn’t even know what she should even be working towards here. The only inklings she had were that the Sith ahead were her enemy, and that the enemy of her enemy naturally became her friend. Under that logic, the Brotherhood wasn’t such a bad place to be.

She, at more or less the same time as Jorel Kaan, glanced up towards the other shamans’ perch. Follow their example, Damsy decided, more or less. Lightning and Constriction weren’t just tricks she knew well, but ones she made semi-frequent use of behind the Jedi’s collective back, regardless she how exactly she employed such power. They didn’t care, she had gathered quickly at the Temple; the reputation of Darkside powers had been throughout and irrevocably tainted.

Fine, let them remain so.

Let them fear her nature. Ashla knew she too feared theirs.

What Damsy wouldn’t allow was Syreni to add to the Force Fear swirling around the mountain like an invisible mirage rippling through the hearts and souls of yonder Petrite Troopers. Fighting fire with fire was an effective tactic, surely, especially against Sith, but one who was trying to become more like the Jedi had to draw a line in mentality for herself somewhere.

So, she stood in wait until the rock under her feet shifted. A small rumble. Then a faster slip. Finally a terrific cracccck leading to a tumble. She jumped away just in time, avoiding being swept away in the moraine of the landslide. She didn’t look to its wake when the earth finally stilled, knowing by the amount of waste laid before her that their path back up the mountain was no more. She heard Khazzak’s disembodied voice off somewhere:

"Fall back to the edges of the slope." ​

No. Syreni’s voice contorted Damsy’s mind, and slowly her will. Not if we want to win thissss.

And they did. Just the two of them. Forget the Maw. Let it do what it would.

Damsy cut a path across the scarp and then began scrambling down the lobe itself bit by sandy bit. The storm was nice decent cover. Through it, she would be ready for a fight when back at what was now ground level.

 

[Relynia Sorrene]

[Captain Relynia Sorrene Standing By]
[ANV Revenge Air group - CAG]
{Ashlan Crusade Allies - Galactic Alliance}
{Korriban's Orbit}

Spoiler: Good Ol' Air Group Composition

-Serpent Squadron - 12 V-Wing Heavy Interceptors
-Razor Squadron - 12 X-Wing Space Superiority Fighters

{Direct Relevancy: Marlon Sularen , Constantine Oliva , Dracken Pryce }
​

"Captain. New orders from the commodore. You're to close in on the Ouroboros, and handle screening until our corvettes are in position," A voice came in through her helmet, clear enough to carve dread into the captain's mind, despite the overlapping series of orders in the background.

"This is CAG..." She swallowed a lump as her eyes took in the sheer amount of enemy contacts around the large green dot identified as the ANV Ouroboros, "Confirm request for Ouroboros support?"

A long, painful second of silence passed over before the voice chimed in again.

"Confirmed."

"...Roger that."

Relynia silenced the channel with the anxious press of a button, simultaneously tugging at the fighter's yoke to bring her nose to face the far-off silhouette of the massive star dreadnought, the resounding sights of explosions drowning the space around in an unmissable display. For a moment, she felt her eyes being lost in the chaos, in cold memory of Csilla, of Coruscant...

She wasn't new to such levels of danger-- far from it, in fact. And plenty of times before, she had still taken herself closer to madness, to death, both with the same amount of fear and dread that she felt then. This would be no different, Relynia reminded herself, displaying the sharpened determination that had always kept her objective clear in mind.

"All Revenge fighter squadrons, form up around me. Interceptors take vanguard, have our X-wings reinforce any gaps. Watch each others' backs..." She drove the uncertainty from her tone, instead fueling her voice with anger and ruthless determination-- her weakness now forged into a blade, proudly presented to her subordinates, "And follow my lead."

Impulse engines came to life once more, nearing their full potential by the time she had flown past the Revenge and the rest of the corvette line. Four bright spots of soon marked her acceleration, and soon signaled her position in the dance of light and shrapnel around her. Corvettes, frigates, entire battlecruisers fired off their own mixes of turbolasers and missiles. Through clouds of metal, and scorching explosions, their payloads traveled, seeking their selected targets.

And Relynia was caught in the middle of it.

The X-wing's gimbles narrowed as the vertical bars of a targeting display began to close the distance between each other, cannons now firmly locked on a single Brotherhood interceptor. Other pilots chose different targets, the Revenge's air wing having broken off temporarily into their smaller groups to better weave past the wall of enemy fighters. And once each had their eyes trained on the dagger-shaped wings of their targets...

The cannons lit up with the red glows of the Galactic Alliance, each bolt fueled by both magnetic induction and her own raw anger-- funneled through her fingers and through the concentrated pressing of triggers. When the smoke subsided, and Relynia had ceased firing, a group of enemy interceptors had been reduced to lifeless scrap metal. And with another obstacle down, the wing continued for the Ouroboros while the overwhelming . The star dreadnought now filled the viewports, though mostly as a backdrop to the streams of fighters hounding each other to fiery graves. Her own craft seemed to shudder at the sight.

They just had to wait for the corvettes to arrive. They just had to hold out until the rest of the 253rd could reinforce the lines. But when would that be?

"Razor Squadron, on me. We'll take ourselves aft, reinforce the Ouroboros's ion drives. Serpents, we'll follow your lead, find us a way past the point defense screen." The captain paused as she threw her fighter past a spray of green, "Shunt power to shields, and good luck!"

The V-wings quickly jolted forward in response, sharp turns now guiding their descent under-- at least, relative to Relynia's own orientation. And within moments, she had led her own X-wings through the crowd of enraged starfighters surrounding them, further into their objective,

And deeper into the madness.

 

[Tegan Starfall]

Post: 3
Objective: Gods of Destruction
Equipment: Mind Crown | Black MidNight Duster with Hood | Echani shield suit | Grav Boots | Eltro Life Gloves | x4 red lightsabers | Defender | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser | x2 FWG-5 Flechette Smart Pistol | Boomer | X4 Daggers | Pack of Death sticks | Various Explosives on person and in backpack | Holopad
Allies: The Mongrel | Chasianna | Alars Keto
Enemies: DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Darth Petrichor | Mikhail Grayson | Damsy Callat | Hiran Avola | Siyarr Ahan-Mitharran | Aemilio Valaar
Special Tags: Open

---

The sandstorm was becoming bigger and higher kicking up rock and sand as it slowly began to creep around the whole of valley like a twister with the valley in the eye of the storm gaining momentum. The Rhandites were heavy into the ritual of making the sandstorm into an unstoppable monster at first unaware of the hundreds of Excerpts of the Petrite Order who had ignited their laser swords and charged forward. The hundred scarred men charge forward themselves to put themselves between the Excerpts and Rhandites. The Scarred men severally outnumbered and outmatched in in skill but unafraid willing to die for the Dark and the Gods of Destruction to protect the Sorcerer’s of Rhand.


The Rhandites carried on with there ritual as the two sides clashed sanding whipping around them cutting through exposed skin of both sides. Scarred men and their light armor at sever risk but it did not matter they just had to hold out long enough for the ritual to finish and for the Elder to arrive. The e sands were rising and moving around the edges of the Valley. In the distance the collapse of the ridge could be heard just barely through the howling wind and whipping sands.


The Scarred men and Excerpts Collided at first the Scarred men caught them off guard, but it was only a moment before the excerpts began to slaughter them. The scarred men began to fall their ranks collapsing quickly. The scarred men died their purposes being fulfilled as they bought Rhandites moments of time. It weas now the Sorcerers started to brandish saber sia and alchemically enhanced swords.

Through destruction a void manifests, an absence of life.
The void is the foundation of truth and the Way.
The Way of the Dark.​

As sand rose and blood started to spill a dark presence could be felt by even those with weakest of force connection. Tegan presences was old more ancient than most of the tombs in the Valley. She didn’t even attempt to hide her arrival as she walked through the sands her and storm. Among the sith she was known as Darth Sokar but that was a very long time ago now, she was a force of destruction. One who foresaw the end of this long dead world once and for all.


She Knelt down as she approached the Rhandites going about their ritual. In the distance in the shadows of the sand she could see the Excerpts Slaughtering the Scarred men. She knelt down and lighting sparked from one of her fingers as she melted the sand to glass into a spider webbed symbol. Then a purple magickal energy began to swirl around her as she charged it into the symbol. The symbol lit up and energy began to swirl out words across the ground in a web pattern. It spread out across the battlefield quickly through the sandstorms briefly touching every mind it encountered.


Tegan could now see all the troops and feel them in her mind though it’s draw back was any force sensitive person could now know exactly where she was on the web as well if they knew what they were doing. Though knowing where the people were on the battlefield wasn’t what was important to Tegan. Because next to the web symbol she drew another one to reanimate the dead and she charged it up and sent it along the web. The troops on any side of this fight that had perished began to rise again. The fallen Scarred men began to rise up to continue the fight, the few Fallen Excerpts began to rise and fight their brethren. Along the fallen ridge the dead also began to rise those crushed under rock howled and moaned loudly, those partially stuck under stone would rip their stuck parts clean off to continue fighting. Unlike the Maw stuck in the crags these arisen undead pushed forward their attack on the Petrite Order.


Overall, it would give the Rhandites more time to make the storm stronger and bigger around the Valley. As for Tegan even though she was very exposed she awaited all comers. She was a force of destruction that fed off Chaos and all the chaos happening the valley, the sandstorm, and rising dead made her stronger. She wanted to take on all their armies, granted she was powerful but also insane there was no way she could win that type of fight but in that moment, she wanted it all.

“I AM GOD! LET THE DEAD RISE!”​

The words boomed across the sandstorm like there was some god speaking through the sands not just some crazy witch with love of Chaos and destruction.

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

5TH POST
THE_TUATH
KORRIBAN
OBJECTIVE 2: BLOODSOAKED VALLEY

Galidraani Forces: Enedina Tal Hiran Avola Siyarr Ahan-Mitharran Fiolette Fortan

Allies (NIO): Rurik Fel Aemilio Valaar

Allies (AC/GA/EE/SJC/PO): Lonnie Kai Dagon Kaze Damsy Callat
Ingrid L'lerim Starlin Rand Aelina Corsanis
Darth Petrichor Creuat Mikhail Grayson Sergeant Omen

Enemies (Sith Remnants): Vector Monk Laertia Io Anja Doreva Darth Orcus
Chasianna Ana Malixar Caulder Dune
Dis Darth Voracitos Crane Baxa

Enemies (BOTM/NSO): The Mongrel Alars Keto Tegan Starfall

Gowrie's Loadout
Primary: Custom Blaster-Pistol (Right-hip Holster - left-or-right hand draw)
Secondary: Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Rapier (Left-hip Sheathe - right hand wielding)
Last Ditch/Second-Blade: Shugg's Fairbairn Vibroknife (Right-hip Sheathe - right-or-left hand wielding)
Pocket-Weapon: Barbershop Razor (Right-pocket - right-hand wielding)

Wildcat Battalion
(Mechanized/Artillery/Infantry)
55 XT-62 Cataphract Tanks
20 Scout-AFVs
10 MLVs
5 Predator Launch-Platforms
2 Guardian Tac-Teams
1 Field-Medic Platoon
1 Combat-Engineer/Logistics Squad

GALACTIC MOSHPIT: THE TUATH'S CRUCIBLE IX - THUNDER FROM THE VALLEY FLOOR

<"Voidwalker, best come down from the LMG for a hot sec. Time to reveal what we've had in mind from the start - an' how recent developments affect this action going forward.... I'll try my best not to bore you, pinky-promise an' aw that chite. But if it's any consolation, this wan's gawnty be an absolute belter if we get it right.">

Drawing ever closer to the south face of the Mongrel's mountain, Reed knew it was safe to come clean about his plans by that point, relenting on Valaar as he dropped down the gunner-hatch with the main gunner hopping down behind him. Once all the elements in AFV One were within earshot, the Commoner-Captain nodded curtly to Aemilio before getting to the matter at hand, sliding the exit door open as he continued,'The vehicles up front-and-center are rigged with explosives, and we're bailing as soon as we're sure these darlings can stay on course. Originally meant for the Mawite swoop-bikes, we know they've left some nasty surprises on the lower-plateau their contingent's too willingly gifted us.', pulling a Tuath rye bottle from behind the driver-site storage compartments as he continued giving his rundown. The driver was seen jamming something steely into the acceleration pedal to keep it down, kicking the makeshift device into place with a few accompanying grunts of exertion, then joining the gathering crowd at the slide-door to finalize their preparation for the next phase of the advance, giving the young guest clear indication everyone was readier than they'd ever be in different circumstances.

<"All AFVs, this is Reed! Ranks two, three and four will halt and cover in five, four, three, two, one and NOW!">

<"As soon as the dust settles, we're moving in as two attacking lines! Wildcat Two out!">

'As soon as the yonder goes BOOM! We move in with bayonets fixed! ZEALOTS UNITING FOR GLORY!!!', the Woad exclaimed after turning his attention back the men who were there with him, closing up his statement by turning his attention to the youth from Bastion. As the others exited the AFV with whoops of excitement, followed by those from the other leading powder-keg on wheels, the moment was there for the taking, opening the way for the warriors behind them like fate itself willed them uphill. Pulling the lad to huddle-closeness, then moving off Aemilio's right-hand side like they were to run and jump together, Alun winked before turning back to the open slide-door and concluding,'Ravelin, and Galidraan III - chargin' in the-gither for the eternal glory of Iveric Tavlar! You ready, Aemilio?', whilst allowing Valaar to grab onto his webbing as Reed grabbed his. Both understood that they needed the other close by, as they were needed to coordinate their own troops from the front for the impending uphill assault, and single-hand grips on the pouches of each other's flak-jackets seemed like a much better idea than resorting to sling-strapping to each other's rifles; they would happy opt to have their joined grasp ripped apart under g-force pressure instead, and at just the right time to minimize spacing between their alighting landing-spots.

'KNEEL, POISE YER HEELS - AN' SPRINT!!!!'

Off like a shot, both the AFV's remaining occupants ran bounding out the side entrance of their powder-keg on wheels, letting the wind-force stop their forward momentum in it's tracks as the roaring engines of AFV One hurtled off into the distance, kicking up red sand and dust on it's way uphill to the Rough Riders' former first line of defence. Within the space of ten seconds at most, however, the two Scout-AFVs that led the two formations kick-started two chain-reaction blasts that ripped across their periphery as the unlikely duo (along with all their troops behind them) saw a myriad of fiery colours flash their reflections over the irises of the men downhill, with the sheer scale of it impressing the attackers almost to distraction. Some debris would land dangerously close to the Woad, but Alun would remain unfazed as he continued to dust himself off and enjoy the colourful display of thunderous firepower, looking over to see how the lad from Ravelin was faring as a large chunk of durasteel plating landed just in front of him before he turned his head.

'AN' JUST LIKE THAT - THE WAY IS OPEN!!!! Let's get this show on the road, Aemilio! An' good luck up there!'

GALACTIC MOSHPIT: THE TUATH'S CRUCIBLE X - A WATCHFUL WOAD

​

Reminded ever so acutely that the Mongrel had fought Lord Erskine to an inconclusive impasse, Lord Aron couldn't help nod confirmation on his former Lord-Commander's behalf, learning of such on Archais when the remnants (and the slew of bodies in the transport ships with them) returned from the Blue-Hearts' toughest battle yet, warning the Kellas there would be none quite so challenging as the one they named,"The Mongrel", would become if left unchecked. Shugg could tell the challenge that followed the revelation was also landing dangerously close to becoming a distracting, doubt-sowing seed of psychological warfare on the one he mentored until death, but the look shot back at the Mawite champion put McHugh's troubles to rest, seeing the makings of stifled mirth as opposed to the makings of stifled malice for himself.
So this one fought oor Laird, did he? An' without force-abilities an'aw, by the looks of it.... Interesting.

This time, the Mongrel himself took the initiative, moving forward on Lord Aron in faux flat-footed aggression, leaning into portrayal of a hard, tip-heavy, overswinging slash, but from what the ghost of Bruenn could make out, Gowrie's grip of the officer-issue Vibrosword would be considered too light to parry or counter in the conventional manner. It was appearing to be a portrayal in and of itself, as if Lord Aron was predicting the next step of the Mongrel's multi-layered, intuitive finishing-attempt, and falling back on his preferred discipline as the Stormchaser would in the Kellas' shoes, but Shugg had long-since known of Gowrie's prominence with the multi-faceted art of Meyer-fencing. But still, even with all the confidence burning from within them both, McHugh couldn't help but wonder if Gowrie was still as quick as he had once been; a few years of Free-State command had been known to make officers favour the pistol over the blade, and some still to prefer hanging back after a near-death experience or two, but the next act in the Tuath's struggle with the Mawite champion would give cause for all in attendance to fall silent.

The,"Meyerite Square", was one such amazing facet of the Meyerite-Gawains' improvement of the art in general, using such randomization of the 1-4 variations to,"Quicken the striking-hands of practicing-swordsmen, and using the same square to improve the foresight and predictive qualities of said practicing-swordsmen. .", creating duelling marvels within Galidraan's officer elite, though none quite so sharp as the Kellas himself, one whom Shugg had been fortunate enough to see in sparring duels regularly. Made evident in the way Aron's blade still moved with measured purpose after playing along with the feint and watching the way the Mongrel's hips and feet were moving, the proof was once again showing that the Meyerite square would still pay dividends for the ancestral Laird of the Tuath clans, seemingly burned into the back of Gowrie's mind as he paced forward to stay inside the Mawite Champion's reach-pocket; low forehand-swiping and pushing into the base of the Mongrel's blade at it's flat, both to allow the rapier's hilt to bare it's rounded-off pommel and push out the sharp thread, and at the perfect tilted angle to test the durability of the Mawite's war-mask with defensive blunt-force.

Missed.
Nearly, Aron. Find yer rhythm, you'll draw blood soon enough.

The Mongrel's good head-movement and depth-perception had allowed him to see the pommel for the potential threat it was, especially in terms of jeopardizing chances to gain control of the fight, so he used this chance to rotate and plan his next few steps as Gowrie stepped back to do the same. 'If ye want mah advice, it helps t'kick the usual duelling habits!', the spectral Woad hoarsely called out, breaking the silence and turning all heads to stare at him as he roared his advice to the living Tuath. Caring not, Shugg would move to the front of the crowd that had gathered in a loose circle around the makeshift fighting-arena, passing by and through every Cirhut warrior who obscured his path, and sneering disdain through glowing red irises at every last one of them. By the time he was no longer being obscured by the sheer weight of numbers, McHugh sniggered when he made proper eye-contact with the only adjutant he liked, even going so far as to wheeze in poorly-contained mirth before controlling it enough to say,'That face, Aron..... Less o' that frothy-mouthed bullchit an'aw! Cut it right out! Break it doun ti nuhin' biht pure focus! You want this man dead - ACT LIKE IT, FOR FETH'S SAKE!!!!'

 

[Melydia Gold]

SIDE: Defender
OBJECTIVE II.: The friend-saving
LOCATION: Tombs, Korriban
WEARING: x | x
CARRYING: x | x | x | x | x
TAG: Dis

T H E _ S W A R M K E E P E R​

With Dis' blessing of sorts, Melydia and her small entourage moved into the tomb she and the Shadowcat had once previously occupied. The exact amount of time that'd passed since that initial visit was lost to the insectoid, days and times so often flew in one ear and out the other to begin with, there was hardly any point in keeping track.

She'd seen shadows move before, primarily in Kal when they hunted for friends and other interesting things on Dxun, but regardless, Melydia was quite fascinated in how the cat-friend moved, watching them bob and float out of the corner of her eye. Before long, her wings gave a flutter and she, too, started to bob and weave among the passageway, though not nearly as graceful. The wings were not meant for prolonged flight, even for hovering.

Fortunately, they didn't have to go far. While Dis called out to the spirits that be (or maybe the spirits that were). Melydia knelt down. She ran a hand down the back of the Tuk'ata young, meant to comfort the small creature, before her hand continued forward to grasp a handful of sand. The air had returned to an essence of staleness having been so quickly exited and otherwise untouched save for their initial adventure. Melydia could still feel it, though, a power still residing in these chambers, perhaps waking once more.

"Something is still in here, yes, we can sense it," she said softly, the last of the sand drifting from her fingers along with a small cluster of beetles. Each insect was quick to move once it hit the sand below, dispersing, all the better to expand Melydia's reach should she need to strike something down.

 

[Dagon Kaze]

ASHLAN CRUSADE
BORN ON A MONDAY vol. I
Issue #7 - Bad Romance w/ Anja Doreva

The ichor ball slammed the air out of his lungs, his abs not tightening on time to prevent it. That's what blind trust gets ya. He crashed hard into the wall a dozen feet away. And there go your ribs. Blood trickled down from a wound at the back of his head, the impact rattling his teeth. The Jedi remained sat on the cold floor of stone, one leg pulled back and eyes squinting to clear away the haze as Halosis spoke.

Feth.

He fixated his gaze at a single point on the ground, struggling to stop the world from spinning as he pushed himself up on his feet wearily. The exhaustion from the chase was catching up to him. Fast. He was running beyond his limits. As always.

But he couldn't give up.

Not now.

Not ever.

"There is no one left to disappoint, Mister Kaze. All I have left is power." she said as she ignited the amethyst blade once more. "Your conviction is strong, young Jedi. But is it strong enough? How far would you go to draw out the Dark?" she asked as she watched him and waited for that anger to take hold of the Jedi.

Dagon's eyes looked up to meet hers illuminated by the amethyst saber. Gone was the devious smirk, washed away by the sudden torrent of energies whirling around her. There was no signs of the feigned warmth and faux friendliness - only the cold touch of the Nether.

"As far as I can, Lady." he brushed away a tired lock of raven hair, steadied his footing, and extended his arms out wide. "What worth is all this power--" his hands came together sending a cloud of dust and sand at her from the tombs around. Make terrain your ally, he'd learned that the hard way fighting crime in the crammed up lower levels of Coruscant.

Speed enhanced by the Force, Dagon would emerge like a dart through the sight obstructing cloud for an overhead feign,

"--if you're only a Queen of Nothing." he crouches abruptly and spins for a sweep kick to lift her off her feet.

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Darth Petrichor: The Dark Heretic

Allies: Ashlan Crusade & friends

Enemies: Brotherhood of the Maw, Sith, etc.

Interacting with: Ingrid L'lerim

Loadout: Dual curve-hilted lightsabers, armorweave suit, beskar mask

"Apologies, Lady Ingrid. I intend no disrespect. I teach my students that titles are unimportant, as to sway them away from a desire to undermine each other. Sometimes, it is difficult to turn off."

Petrichor's exile had left him locked away in his own world for some time. His own, crafted little world, where his vision could be cultivated without interruption. It was easy to forget that the greater galaxy operated differently than his academy. Though he was well-versed in the ways of the court, though he his early years with the Sith had caused him to shy away from such formalities. Nonetheless, he would retain respect for someone of Ingrid's reputation.

"Darth Petrichor, though you may call me Petrichor. I merely maintain my Darth title for political purposes. I find that many of my brethren latch onto the title, perhaps a little too much."

As they continued their walk, the sand picked up in the distance. Petrichor kept his calm demeanor, but inside he felt concern for his former student. There were forces at work here that would prove to be a threat to even the Dark Heretic himself. He paused for a moment, taking in the warm air of Korriban.

Patience, Jorel... patience...

He turned his attention back to Ingrid as he returned to the task at hand.

"I see... Kyber Dark... many lives were indeed lost on that day. If I may ask, why come here to commune with this person? Were they buried among these ancient tombs?"

He was uncertain that he would get a straight answer, but he wouldn't push it further than necessary. After all, if they were to descend into the tombs together, it would be best for him to know her intentions, no matter how vague the answer may be.

"I wish for the Sith to become what they were always intended to be. They were philosophers once; simple students of the Force, just as the Jedi. It wasn't until the Jedi forced them away that they became lost. I wish to bring my brethren back from their enslavement to the Darkness, and to a more grounded place. I fear that much more blood will have to be shed before the goal is reached, but if I can avoid it, I will."

Jorel Kaan: Commander of the Petrite Host

Allies: DECEASED Aron Gowrie , Mikhail Grayson , Damsy Callat , Hiran Avola , Siyarr Ahan-Mitharran , Aemilio Valaar , AC

Enemies: The Mongrel , Tegan Starfall , Chasianna , Alars Keto , Laertia Io , BotM, Sith

Loadout: Dual curve-hilted lightsabers, armorweave jacket

Theme

Rock and sand alike began to fracture, breaking apart the hillside as the Mawite defenses began to fall and shatter. Many had survived, but Jorel had managed to at least limit the defenders' ability to hold the line. Though this was a small moment of reprieve from the fear that had befallen the Petrite ranks, it would not last. In Jorel's anger, he had miscalculated...

The ground erupted in a vicious landslide, bringing a large chunk of the hill crashing toward the Petrite lines. Jorel attempted to find a way to prevent casualties, but everything was moving too fast. Even if he saved some of the Troopers below, there would still be death.

The Chiss quickly rose his hand, attempting to hold up a barrier to catch as much of the falling rock as possible. Several of the Exalted joined in the effort, though many were stuck focusing on what blaster fire still came down from the hill above. The landslide was slowed by the effort, but not stopped. It continued to cascade down toward their forces, enveloping many within its vicious maw. Many that weren't immediately crushed were swept away, lost to the sands of the growing storm behind them. Jorel cursed under his breath...

How could he have been so foolish?

As the landslide finally began to subside, a corvette that had taken severe damage came crashing to the ground. The impact launched even more dirt and rock in all directions, swallowing more of the forces on both sides. The wall put up by Jorel and his companions broke, and he was consumed in darkness...

Meanwhile, as the Excerpts continued to slay the protectors of the Rhandite sorcerers, there was a sudden shift in the air around them. Darkness seemed to creep its way forward, even within the very sands itself. Though the barbarous hordes of the sorcerers were being cut down, the Excerpts felt uneasy. The presence that had made itself known seemed older than time itself; an ancient darkness that would take an eternity to fathom.

Suddenly, the fallen began to shift and move as corpses began to rise. The dead had been brought back into the fold, and with a singular purpose... to kill every one of the Excerpts.

The Excerpts themselves had varying levels of skill when it came to fighting such a threat. Those that were duelists would manage, though fighting a foe with such unconventional tactics and blind rage would make things difficult. Some that had skills in such dark magic found ways to protect themselves, though they could do little to save others within the chaos of the battle. In the end, there would be greater casualties than anticipated, and many would indeed fall at the hands of the undead horde.

Despite all of this, the Excerpts of the Petrite Order would fight on. Their cause was bigger than Korriban; bigger than any single planet or system in the galaxy. They fought for a better future for their Sith brethren, and they would bleed and die to the last if need be.

Back on the hill, the dust from the landslide and following crash finally began to settle. Jorel found himself buried in the sand, attempting to crawl his way to the surface. He could feel the ground crushing his body, and his breath just waiting to give out. He could not bring himself to resign himself to such a fate. Not in the wake of Csilla, not while his people yet needed justice. So, in the wake of certain death, he climbed...

Eventually, his hand felt the air above, and was met by the gloved hand of one of the ever-faithful Exalted. As he was lifted out of the sand, Jorel looked up the hill. The undead had arrived here as well, pushing a counterattack against those that remained on the hillside. The Exalted managed to keep them at bay, though the sheer number of dead had brought the Petrite advance to a halt.

Taking a moment to understand the situation, Jorel finally sent a telepathic message out to his troops. The Petrite Troopers that remained were to fan out on either side of the line, making their way around the more unstable parts of the hill. They would keep the undead from flanking the Exalted while attempting a push away from the sandstorm. Meanwhile, Jorel would lead his forces into the thick of it, pushing as far as they could while they still had the numbers.

"Exalted, to me!"

He reignited his lightsaber, and with a cry of war into the broken abyss, he began the ascent to the fallen craft.

They had one shot at this, and every second would count.