Annihilation End of an Era: AC Annihilation of Korriban

[Anja Doreva]

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

Spoiler

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

O~~>MY DEMON<~~O​

A maelstrom of dust churned around them.

Two champions locked in an intimate dance of death.

Two sides of a coin.

So different, yet the same. Who's will would buckle first? Could it even buckle?

Sabers locked in another humming embrace, the Lady of Conquest gritted her teeth, mud streaks caking her cheeks as blinded tears ran dusty rivers down her face. Listening to a young man looking for that minute little piece of Light to draw out from under the immense bulk of Darkness - to redeem. Wanting so bad to redeem that which has died a lonely death so long ago.

It was almost heartwrenching.

The bright teal eyes that regarded the Jedi was almost filled with pity as the combined light from the three sabers reflected brightly in the glass of dust and sweat.
"Do you even know what you ask?" she asked, almost softly.

Then the sabers dropped.

She was almost tempted to stand still to let his resistance carry him forward and implant his saber in her heart. But a vow made in blood to a Falleen warrior prevented her will from buckling. Danika had not fulfilled her entire promise to Samron and his men yet.

A blood vow unfulfilled was to unleash the wrath of the spirit world.

Spinning, instead, to the side, she put distance between herself and the Knight. Settling back in a battle stance, she tried to steady her breathing. Her vision was starting to clear as most of the dust was already washed from her eyes.
"Even if I wanted to reach for it, Master Jedi, I would be signing a sentence of eternal misery." she said, the haunting note back in her voice, however hoarse. "There are things greater than mere dead Sith Lords at work. Reaching for true selves is a bit complicated, darling." The sinister smirk was back on the corner of her mouth.

It was easier to hide behind the ruthlessness and faux warmth. Thinking about the ramifications of walking away from the fragile power she held and the loyalists she had, was too daunting.

The same fear she invoked in others, was keeping her in line as well.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

ETERNAL RULE
KORRIBAN ORBIT
STYGIAN CALDERA
Kirie Thalia Senn Sergeant Omen
Darth Carnifex KV-6000

​

"For the Alliance!"

General San Tekka activated his crossguard hilt and a brilliant white blade illuminated the hull breach. Incoming blaster bolts were deflected aside or back the way they came by flashing saber arcs. A squad of marines in white and yellow pushed forward out of the boarding spike under his protective aegis cutting down Sith troopers with calculated return fire. It was over in a matter of seconds but Zark could hear the sounds of fiercer battle ahead.

"Senn. Ito," he activated his comlink's encrypted frequency, "Regroup on me."

This was a place of unfathomable darkness. Even a Jedi Master risked damnation by opening his mind to such evil but Zark maintained the combat battlemeld that instinctively linked his boarding crews and gave them the courage to press on in the face of crushing doubts which emanated from Carnifex's very presence. He could sense fear back on the City of Ashes when another heavy tractor went offline. It would only be a matter of time before the Sith battlecruiser's straining engines broke free from her grip and brought devastating mass drivers to bear on the Starhawk's vulnerable aft flank.

"Welcome to the fight Sergeant," the Jedi Master nodded serenely at Omen, "It would seem the Force has guided you to us in our most desperate hour."

When the others reached his side he knew it was time to proceed.

"Sergeant Omen, I am placing Talon Squad under your command. They're no ARC troopers but they get the job done. Take another squad and neutralize those remaining cannons."

Zark turned to the Jedi.

"We need to disable the engines. Bridge isn't far, or you could take a turbolift to the reactors. Find a way. I will seek out Darth Carnifex. Trust in the Force and each other. If I need your help you will know."

Working together in harmony General San Tekka and the Alliance troopers under his command cut down the remaining Sith warriors impeding their forward progress. As he moved deeper into the Eternal Rule the Jedi could sense a presence twisted and corrupt calling out to him in a mocking tone. Zark closed his eyes and let the Force shine through him like a beacon of light in the dark.

"Will you face me or must I seek you out?" he knew that wherever the Sith lurked Zambrano was listening, "Let us not waste any more lives."

In one hand the Jedi Master held his lightsaber while the other clutched an imbued star compass which though plagued as if by gravity wells every once in a while still pointed true.

 

[Vector Monk]

VALLEY OF THE DARK LORDS
KORRIBAN
Starlin Rand

​

"How fascinating."

Vector wasn't listening to the Jedi explain his namesake. Instead he was focused on the active lightsaber in Starlin's grip. He observed everything about its construction, how it was wielded and by which hand. So enamored with the ancient weapon Captain Monk failed to stop its owner from blundering ahead into a sacred Sith burial shrine.

"Quiet you fool!"

But it was too late. Ethereal flames erupted around them as sconces still dangling at odd angles from sunken walls were coaxed ablaze by the presence of the living. At the edge of illumination loomed an empty throne. Vector sank quivering to his knees in exaltation.

"It does exist..." he breathed in quiet amazement.

Disembodied laughter echoed off cavern walls still shrouded in shadow. Monk leaped back up to his feet in terror. Eyes wide with alarm turned to the Jedi.

"Sith spirits!" Vector cursed, "They are often drawn to tombs such as this. Your lightsaber can't hurt them Starlight! They only respect one thing...power. Quickly! You must summon lightning and attack the throne."

 

[Starlin Rand]

Starlin looked at the empty throne, then at the tomb around it, a bit underwhelmed. At the mention of Sith spirits, however, Starlin perked up.

“Oh, it’ll be fine,” he said with a smirk, but didn’t offer any more explanation than that. He enjoyed freaking people out with his unusual array of abilities and techniques. He wasn’t your granddaddy’s Jedi, that’s for sure.

His smirk widened into a grin as Vector commanded him to strike the throne with lightning. Stretching forth his hand, green electricity arced from his fingers toward the fancy chair. Light burst outward from the throne, growing brighter. The spirits’ laughter turned into screams of rage.

If the spirits wanted to attack him, let them try. He had plenty of tricks up his sleeves when it came to dealing with malevolent spirits. His master had weaned him on this sort of thing!

Tags: Vector Monk​

 

[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) +1 Victor 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) Queen Group, Bolt V-class, Fast Corvette (4) Sierra Group, Bolt V-class, Fast Corvette (4)

So it continued onward, the fight between Mawites and the Galidraani. Just as it had been before when Admiral Yvarro led the First Order's charge against the Rogue One Sith back at Castameer. Then too came the men and women of the Royal Galidraani Navy, "cannon to the right of them, cannon to the left of them, cannon in front of them. Volleyed and thundered, stormed at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well. Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of hell. Rode the six hundred."

Captain Fortan saw the ferocity in which the Mawites fought and ordered another to the lines, Bravo Group. The lone survivor of Victor Group now regrouped with Alpha. As Bomber Group Harris regrouped in the high skies above the field of battle. There again they formed up the two Raskovas now with Bolts formed around to once more escort. Forward again another wave of bombers and escorts from the other Imperial Star Destroyer. Lost to them were the men and women of Victor Group, lost to them had been the pilots of the first wave of TIEs.

She prepared another group Bomber Group Wallis but their time would have to wait. Wait as Bomber Group Harris knew their foe and knew that they would stop at nothing to keep their lines. So as they laid in the sky they prayed, and blessings upon them from the Augustine Orders. They vowed to their god, they vowed to their patron and the noble house of which they served that this, this would be it.

There they went, they began their descent and Captain Fortan continued, "flashed all their sabres bare, flashed as they turned in air. Sabring the gunners there, charging an army, while all the world wondered. Plunged in the battery-smoke, right through the line they broke; Mawite and Sith reeled from the sabre stroke, shattered and sundered. Then they rode back, but not the six hundred."

This, this would be their fate just as it had been Fiolette's back at Castameer.

On about there as the battle approached on view, that the bombs were prepared and this time there seemed to be some finality to it as Bomber Group Harris returned near determined as their foe. Determined to make the other die for his cause, determined to survive this flight and to punish the Mawite lines. No matter the cost, the Galidraani's run was on once more.

​

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​

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

Interacting with: DECEASED Aron Gowrie

Opponents: Tu'teggacha | KV-6000 | Derix Tirall | Marlon Sularen |
Interacting with: The Mongrel
​

 

[Coren Starchaser]

If there was anyone who was not seeing the truth in the matter, it was Laertia Io . Coren Starchaser had quite the mind for what it meant to be a Jedi. He had been one on several fronts, from the Levantines to the Alliance to the Concord and to the new Alliance. He had been there as a member of the Underground, working in small units to not be seen, all the way to larger war efforts. Jedi could turn the tide of a fight, this was true, but was it something they needed to be doing, something the excelled in?

No. Jedi were peacekeepers. As history’s witness and student, he has seen first hand the collapse of the Alliance at Coruscant, the loss of so many of his brothers and sisters in arms. And in the past, the ancient Republic, the Jedi were wiped out when they became involved in the war effort. They were wiped out at the peak of their power.

The Bryn’adul were a threat, yes, but was it a threat that would serve to allow the Jedi to abandon who they were, what they were. No, that would not stand. The Jedi Master was going to stand his ground here. Working with the Sith was a problem, they were having their own issues with the multi-front war, and were the Jedi not on the Sith world? And the feeling of dread overwhelming it?

“This will surprise you, Laertia, not all Jedi are my Jedi.” He said, breathing between his use of the Force and lightsaber to keep her at bay. This wasn’t his fight. He couldn’t be the poster boy of the Jedi in every war. But he did have blame that he could accept for the situation here. The Corellian was no longer in charge of any Order, he was a Wayseeker, working between the Orders.

As his push made contact, he took the second to extinguish his lightsaber. “Laertia, this is not worth it. Continuing the fight this way…” He could feel the Light Side coming at him, it was sickly, but it wasn’t dark… not exactly. Twisted, yes. But it was the Light Side. And that was what the man had been studying for the better part of a decade.

“You can do so much more if you come away from this path.” The Jedi continued. “Please.” His lightsaber still extinguished as he spoke, an eye on the woman before him, ready to block her with a barrier.

 

[Bernard]

Go wash the hand that still betrays thy guilt;
Before the spirit’s gaze what stain can hide?
Abel’s red blood upon the earth is spilt,
And by thy tongue it cannot be denied;
----
Outside the Academy
Cliffside​

Allies: GA, AC, NIO, Ishida Ashina
Enemies: BOTM, TSE, Sith​

The red stone pathway was laced with a strong sense of déjà vu. Each step felt like it filled a boot print that had been waiting in the sand since his first descent toward the academy. Tension wound itself in his stomach, slowly coiling its way up his body and through his limbs as the grey-black rooftops of the academy grew closer. His hand nearly fell onto his sabre, reflexively reaching for an anchor of safety, but he recoiled, memories of the last time it came to life on Korriban snapping his mind back to the present. The second pair of footsteps behind him aided in further anchoring him there.

He wasn't alone this time. There was strength to be gained from that.

The rooftops were quiet and empty. Most of the fighting occurred further down below, or far beyond the expansive view, the academy rooftops provided. Faint echoes of explosives detonating or blaster bolts whizzing through the air bounced between the valley's walls and up to where the two of them sat hunched over a maintenance panel.

He looked over her shoulder as she worked, watching deft hands twist and pull wires only to recombine them in complex, novel arrangements. It seemed complicated, but she made it look easy, as with many things. The Sentinel in him grew a little jealous. When'd she get so good at that?

"Last time they didn't have a lock," he added to her banter.

The door unlocked with a quiet, metallic click and a whoosh. The corridor it revealed was as dark and gloomy as he remembered it. Black-blue metals stretched into an elongated hexagonal shape comprised the walls, and were illuminated by faint red lights. Thin wisps of frigid smoke from the coolants trailed along the ground, steaming mists fizzled above. It was an uncomfortable walk, trapped between two temperature extremes, but it was the fastest waay inside the academy that retained the element of surprise.

But an arm interjected before he could take the step inside. Cloudy white clashed with stormy grey.

“You’re good for this, right?”

Her question threw him off more than it should have. Something about it stung, but he couldn't quite place what. His brows furrowed, he stood immobilized for a heartbeat.

There had been countless worries that wrought his mind with anxious trepidation of what lay within the academy. It wasn't only the memory that haunted him or the fear that what happened once might happen again. Since the last time, he'd set foot on Korriban a lot had changed. His views of the Sith, his attitude towards their acolytes, his understanding of the Dark Side, and of the Light, had all undergone significant metamorphoses as he'd broadened the horizon of his inner lantern.

Yet, there was still that seed of doubt. Master Sardun had said that servants of the Dark came in many forms. From the irrefutably vile Dark Lords to the seemingly innocent acolytes who broke down when their friends were threatened. Both had fallen to the corruption of the dark side, cast their lot with evil, that was certain, but just when did corruption become absolute? The question still lacked an answer, and so long as it did, he couldn't be sure how he'd respond when an acolyte crossed his path.

He wanted to believe that they could be turned, saved from their corruption, as he had been. That, despite the seductive, consuming allure of the Dark Side, there was still a choice afforded to those afflicted by it to turn away and embrace a better path. That the Light could heal and repair, after all. And that not all hope should be lost for those who suffer signs of corruption.

For if he were wrong, the deterministic bleakness threatened to crush what ember of hope sat buried deep within his heart and bring with it another age of ice.

"I am," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "and this time I won't be alone."

Despite the still outstanding judgment, he'd chosen to place his faith in her. It wasn't blind trust, he knew there was a good chance she might attempt to kill him, still. Her fanaticism and extreme devotion to Sardun's nigh-draconic imperatives regarding the Dark, which Bernard understood and, to some degree, still followed, didn't stop gnawing at the edge of his mind.

However, he did his best not to show the anxiety that followed from those observations, and even more so, tried sincerely not to give in to the fear it produced either. Any hesitation would only drive a wedge between them, and, despite the weight it placed on him, there was something comforting in another Jedi watching his back, so long as he kept faith that there was no dagger waiting either.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Pneuma
Objective: Assault the Sith Academy
Allies: Geiseric, Auteme , Romi Jade | ASHLAN CRUSADE |
Enemies: Darth Solipsis , Darth Voracitos , Ishani Sibwarra, Maestus , Dakrul, Darth Mori, Gnost Zym, Darth Ophidia, Alina Tremiru, Darth Voracitos , Taeli Raaf | MAW/SITH |


They were as ready as they would ever be.

Cedric spared a look toward Romi Jade , his expression hidden entirely behind the cold steel of his mask, but his presence within the empyrean shifted somewhat at her arrival. He'd not seen much of her since her rescue from the Maw, though not for lack of want. Their paths had started similarly, and then veered off in two entirely opposite directions. Until now.

"You were almost late." Cedric muttered in greeting, hints of quite amusement and warmth lacing his words before it returned to its usual near-monotone. "I'm sure out hosts are growing impatient." His gaze drifted from one woman to the other. Not the companions he would have expected to be walking into the depths of Korriban with, but they were a welcome surprise. Whatever lingered beneath had the potential to shape the destiny of Korriban, perhaps forever if his senses were correct. Better not to face it alone.

The Blade of Ruusan illuminated the blackened stairwell in a weak cyan glow. It only extended a few inches past the Jedi's face, its light otherwise swallowed up by the unnatural darkness - as keen a metaphor for their situation as any, and Cedric suspected a calculated one at that.

The violence of the conflict above sunk to the periphery of Cedric's senses as he descended further into the abyss, the smell of sulfur stuffing his lungs and a coppery taste forming on his lips. It reminded him keenly of the scent that had pervaded the ruins of Ession's capital city in the aftermath of the Sith bombardment: thousands of rotting carcasses entombed in a funeral pyre that burned for weeks. His pulse quickened at the memory, beads of sweat dotting at his forehead as they came to the end of the stairwell.

Before them stood a pair of doors, though their nature was entirely indiscernible. The surface seemed almost like liquid, moving at its own accord, the details of it registering momentarily to the mortal eye, then shifting just as the mind began to grow used to their form. Not keen on touching such a thing, Cedric thrust forward an open palm, a blast of telekinetic energy crashing into the center of the doors and splintering them inward. The strange substance they had been forged from seemingly evaporated into acrid smoke as it hit the floor beyond, and once again, Cedric felt the dominating presence of Darth Solipsis .

"You had to be here, didn't you Kaigann," Cedric mumbled to himself as he stepped through the portal, blade shining in hand. The Jedi stared down the dark lord and his constituents, fingers flexing in anticipation. "The age of the Sith is over," he announced, weapon raised in a salute toward Solipsis. "Surrender to our custody and you will not be harmed. Resist, and be destroyed."

 

[KV-6000]

Location: Gunnery Crew Station, Gun Decks - Eternal Rule
Weapons: Octuple Barbette AI-MD “Gnoma” Mass Drivers - Upper Prow
Call Sign: Shen Seven
Personal Equipment: DS-101 “Venture” Multipurpose Protective Attire (X) │ SIF-57s │ Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
Side: Defenders
Dark: TK ( Darth Carnifex ) │ BoTM ( Tu'teggacha Derix Tirall Marlon Sularen )
Light: AC ( Isla Draellix-Kobitana Tristan Evore Pietro Demici ) │ NIO (Fiolette Fortan Caarlyle Rausgeber Albrecht F. Herlock ) │ GA ( Zark San Tekka Aerarii Tithe Relynia Sorrene Constantine Oliva ) │ SJC ( Sergeant Omen )

“Commander, we’ve compromised one more tractor beam!” KV-2110 called out.

"Boarders are closing in on the gun decks, sir!" Another voice announced.

“Only one? How th-” The Mirialan Commander snapped, yet holding his tongue before more left his lips, his green features twisted with rage and disbelief. “Have the blast doors sealed and activate the laser gates. Gunners, turn the cannons to aft, focus more fire on the City of Ashes, even if we can’t hit the tractor beam arrays! Blow that thing to pieces! Our guns will not go silent until we're all dead!” He roared.

“Our primary target is still the Fist, sir!”

“We’ll have to handle them both, then. Gunners, get your targeting solutions and fire on that battleship! Make sure these boarders don’t have a City to return to.”

“Yes, Commander!”

The Commander’s disbelief and anger echoed KV-6000’s own, but it was also marked with disappointment in herself, knowing that those shots had ultimately been on her shoulders and she had failed to make them truly count. For a moment, her mind wandered, anxieties seeping in as thoughts of her Commander slowly realizing that she wasn’t as good as her scores made her out to be. Her dream had always been to earn an assignment on the autocannons, but she began to think that she was closer to being demoted to a lower post, perhaps laser cannons, flak guns, or even relegated to being an assistant technician. Frustration yet colored her pale features, but the voice-his voice, tempered her anxiety, reminding her of the Eclipsing truth.

Service for Salvation.

Her individual ambitions mattered not, as her efforts were always a small element of a greater collective. So long as she served, suffered, and struggled, she would have a place in his Eclipse.

“I have a line to the engines, sir.” She intoned.

“Fire! Now!” The Mirialan snapped.

Opting to forgo the use of the targeting systems, KV-6000 instead relied solely on the speed and precision of her enhanced mind to account for any relevant factors. Then, with breath suspended in her lungs, she willed the guns under her control to fire, the mass drivers hammered out a full salvo, casting eight doonium cores into the void, each aimed to strike the engines of the Alliance battleship.

Spoiler: Summary of Actions

• AI-MD “Gnoma” Mass Drivers reloaded.
• Turadium Blast Doors and Laser Gates leading into Mass Driver Gun Decks sealed.
• KV-6000 manually targets the City of Ashes.
• Eight shots are fired from each of the eight AI-MD “Gnoma” Mass Drivers under her control, all on the MAC Setting, aimed for the City of Ashes’ engines.

 

[Kirie]

-
Aboard the Eternal Rule
ALLIES: Zark San Tekka | Thalia Senn
ENEMIES: Darth Carnifex | KV-6000

Equipment: Red Lightsaber | Armour | Blaster Pistol | Jedi Jumpsuit

The door to the pod burst open and the Alliance boarding team was thrown into the fray immediately. Ahead of her, Kirie saw Padawan Senn already struggling with Sith soldiers at the exit. A moment later there was a flash of a green saber and the young woman dropped down. Kirie reeled at the sudden explosion of violence, but she fought to keep her concentration and followed the Padawan outside, nimbly dropping to the floor of the corridor below.

The crumpled bodies of the Sith soldiers littered the floor, their crimson armour shining dully in the flickering lights of the hallway. Kirie moved aside as Master San Tekka dropped to the floor beside her and the rest of the marines poured out. San Tekka ignited his shining white saber too, surging forward with the soldiers and the newly arrived Sergeant Omen to beat back the next wave of Sith defenders. Again, Kirie stood dazed, sheltering behind a bulkhead as the brutality shook her. After a moment she felt her mind clearing slightly as waves of determination and strength poured from Master San Tekka.

Still, Kirie was hanging on the precipice of losing herself. Despite her training, her meditation since Krayiss and her preparation for this mission, it just wasn’t enough. She could feel the pain, the fear and the anger that consumed everything on the battlefield. The Eternal Rule was a place of death, of violence and destruction. What was she doing here?

San Tekka’s voice crackled over the comm and brought her back from the edge for the moment. Kirie stepped out from behind the bulkhead and ran to join the Jedi Master up ahead, activating her saber as she did so, the red glowing blade very much out of place beside the emerald and white sabers of her fellow Jedi.

Hanging back for a moment, Kirie waited until there was a reprieve in the Sith assault before joining San Tekka at his side. She was sick to her stomach, and the sensations of pain and death rolled over her like crashing waves. On her face was painted a clear haunted expression.

She moved alongside Zark and Thalia as they raced through the corridors, listening intently as the Jedi Master relayed their instructions. She was relieved she wouldn’t have to face Carnifex yet, but the prospect of having to fight through the ship without Zark was daunting. She didn’t know if she could manage.

“Understood Master San Tekka. We won’t let you down.”

Liar. They didn’t stand a chance.

As they drove deeper into the ship Kirie moved towards Thalia and addressed her directly.

“I think we should head for the reactor. It’ll take longer, but it’ll be easier to get to and I, uh, know how to shut down the power on a starship without hurting ourselves.”

She did not share with Thalia the crippling fear that on the bridge they would have to face the Sith directly. Since Krayiss, there was nothing she wanted to avoid more than that, nothing that terrified her more than the prospect of walking straight into the nerve centre of the former Sith Emperor’s flagship.

As Zark pushed onward without them, and the crushing feeling of fear and hatred and anger crowded her once again, Kirie looked at the Padawan beside her imploringly.

“I need your help here, Thalia.” Kirie said quietly, so the marines beside them could not hear her. “I’m overwhelmed, and I’m scared, and I can’t do this alone. Please, lend me your strength, and I’ll give you what little I have in return.”

She sighed, doing her best to calm herself down, to find serenity in the Force. It didn’t help much.

“So what will we do, bridge or reactors?”

 

[Darth Solipsis]

​

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW​

The subterranean chamber stressed and nearly buckled under the weight of the enormous strain placed upon it through the oppressive force of the Dark Side. The very stonework suffered as it cracked with small fissues and fractures, gravity felt three times as heavy with an overwhelming sensation of force pressed against one's flesh. The miasma of the Dark Side had reached it's epoch, a near vergence of it's own within the deep, dark, sacrificial chamber resting at the bottom of the Sith Academy.

The Dark Lord continued to reach to no avail, the secret just barely out of his grasp. He recoiled in anger and frustration, they were so close now, he could feel it dawning on him. They had to keep going, they had to keep the ritual fueled by any means necessary. They could not accept failure now, not when they were so close to achieving what no other before him had.

Sweat rolled down his face as his hands snapped back and peeled away at the metaphysical with all his will and all his might in the Force. A bright light emerged from the nothingness, a flicker of red flames that pulled away the veil like a flaming curtain. A series of linear sigil-like ripples immediately flooded outward in waves, the inferno parted, and there beyond the burning tapestry was it.. the light beyond into the Dark Side itself. Much like the focusing device on Mustafar, this chamber had been designed to connect with the Dark Side itself. Maintaining such power required a cost however, the Dark Lord uttered only the briefest of words before stepping forward toward the newly revealed savage garden.

"Bring the sacrifice."

The Sith'ari stepped forward, his sulfuric gaze fixating once more on the bright light guiding his way. He felt his pain, his anguish, the suffering of a broken body melt away as he left his physical shell unknowingly. Abandoning his flesh he entered the void in order to claim his prize, his elder husk crumbled into dust.

​

The voices of his past flooded the surface of the portal, the smell of sulfur permeated it and only the flicking flames provided illumination for the outline of the doorway. He entered into this hellish realm, where the waters ran red with blood and the eternal light only led deeper into his own misery as images rose up around him.

Undeterred, he pressed on until he reached it's apex. The center of the blinding light, the crux of power.

"Show me."

​

It felt like an eternity.

The Darkness welled up within him, it threatened to devour all that once was and replace it with what was now forever more. He had changed, the galaxy now needed to do the same.

It had to die in order to experience rebirth as the Sith had.

"You had to be here, didn't you Kaigann?"

He opened his eyes and found himself staring back through the mirror. Looking beyond the darkened curtain, his legs unfolded from his stance and his feet touched upon blood soaked ocean that roared beneath his feet in the heart of a wild storm. Lightning flashed in the distance, the sounds of thunder crashed against the surface of the crimson doorway.

"The Sith have been reborn from the ashes of death. There are no limits now."

The Dark Lord's spectral form pierced against the open doorway into the realm material, his form peeled away to reveal flesh renewed. An elder statesman with blazing yellow eyes that burned with the fires of Mustafar, a long cloak fell around him, his neck collared high.

"Reality can be whatever I want."

Cedric Grayson | Auteme | Romi Jade | Pom Stych Tivé | Maestus

​

 

[Vesta]

EAT YOU ALIVE
​

Eclipse the Light.

Bold words for an empire built on the backs of the outcasts of outcasts, Sith that had gathered from the shattered remains of titans in the eyes of recent galactic history - where the Sith Empire might've lived longer and proved a terrible threat for much of its lifetime, those that came before had shattered their enemies against the proverbial rocks below. Still, despite her distinct lack of respect for an entity that had failed to realize how it could leverage its behemoth size and its advantage in numbers, there was some measure of understanding she had for the phrase, now that she saw what sort of nuisance these Jedi could be when they played to their emotional strengths - to friendship, camaraderie, and trust. The girl ignored her command in favor of the woman she presumably had known from the past in an outright, obvious, betrayal of the implicit bond between master and apprentice.

So much these scavengers had taken from her, be it her mother or every other being she'd considered herself close enough to, that she would not tolerate it any more.

The quiver in the girl's heart had been noticed the moment she had hesitated, just as the absence of light in the woman's arrow was a stark contrast from the one she'd drawn and loosed before. Vestigial limbs, the legs that had been buckling when she'd pushed Darth Daiara out of the way prior, were shifted away as the Sith lord relinquished the efforts to inflict pain through sight and started towards the archer without regard for the projectile flying towards her. Her sword dropped from her grip as she lifted her injured arm up towards the arrow in a gesture that made clear that she'd been keen on grabbing for the missile, only for her to be halted in place as the glimmer of a barrier created a wall between the Mori and her prey. Her heart stopped, eyes closed, and she clenched her jaw tight.

This, this incessant mercy - this childish interference - was one she couldn't stand. She'd left her last apprentice over it, over the squeamish nature she'd had towards anything that might cause issue for the people she cared about without any regard for the Shi'ido, and she would have readily abandoned this one if it weren't for the perfect fit the girl had in Mori's plans. Anger burned through her, like fire in her veins, with such heat that it was physically painful for her to contain all of that rage, all of her frustrations, her jealousy of having yet another person choose someone else over her; and so she didn't. That outstretched hand closed to a fist, exerting telekinetic force from all sides around the arrow - unwilling to trust her traitorous apprentice's barrier with her life - and let her lips curl into a fierce smirk as its head ruptured and exploded.

She pulled her hand, the fist, back towards her, towards her hip on the same side of her body, and siphoned the thermal and kinetic energy from the explosion like a vortex into her - or, rather, into the barrier that stood in her way - whilst her free hand, her right hand, was flung up in an almost synchronous manner to unleash a concentrated wall of telekinetic energy towards the only thing that stood between Allyson Locke and her. The barrier shattered as Aradia decided that siding with the Sith was the better choice, a decision that had saved her from Mori's direct wrath, and the fist of the Shi'ido's left hand opened to pull her sword from its place in the ground back towards her - into her grip where it belonged.

"Your attention should be on me." She said coolly, her eyes opening as she switched her blade between hands.

She stepped towards the Jedi again, first slowly and then faster with each successive footfall that followed, as she became determined to reach her - arrows of light or not. Earth and stone shifted beneath her feet as she reached a sprint, lifting her upwards like a living staircase, while electricity played at the length of her sword. She could've refrained from brutality, from direct engagement, and focused more on survival and pyrrhic warfare, but there were times where a master must demonstrate the folly of believing oneself above them, or beyond their reach. The sword was flung forwards from her grip as she swung her right hand and let it go, launching it like a javelin guided through the force towards the Jedi.

"I'm going to enjoy this."

 

[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​

Her own words from only minutes ago echoed in the insectoid's head as she and the Shadowcat waited for a response. Dis' encouragement, both the excitement in their mental voice and their eagerness to jump in, dedicating their own mastery over the force into aiding in waking those who slept was all the encouragement Melydia would find in the moment, and all she'd needed.

Whether or not those who resided in this tomb helped them, she'd already stated they would have no choice in the matter. And, like it or not, she intended to follow through. She hated doing it, snatching a creature's autonomy out from under them. But whoever this being was, it had tried to kill them once, just as it would likely try and kill them again when it woke. But the dead had already had their time to spread destruction and death. Now, it was her turn to call the shots. Now, they would serve.

With one hand remaining on the tomb's floor, still grasping at a small collection of sand, Melydia kept her head lowered as more beetles crawled out of her bag and sleeves. Even as her lashes fluttered close, the bright shine of gold poked out through the cracks until at last she opened her eyes once more, now a singular, bright color. <Those who slumber here, we summon you before us,> she started, the words in High Sith resonating with what sounded like many voices at once.

<You who would keep all those who enter here, we now seek to keep you. You who would fight our subjugation, we would see you fight for our purposes.> Parts of her skin began to peel away as if she were molting, a few areas of particularly fresh skin turning red as droplets of blood pooled from them. But such was the cost of the ritual. Such was the cost of power. A distant part of her worried that even with the sacrifice, sealing the spirit wouldn't actually aid them, just as she feared that her friendship with Dis (and by extension, potentially Kal ) would fade to fear. But nevermind that, she had a job to do.

"Spirit who resides here, we would have you. Welcome to the hive."

 

[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

"Miss L'lerm it is then. And yes, Lord Petrichor will do."

The winds continued to shift as they closed the gap to the tomb. The sandstorm in the distance grew with each moment, slowly consuming the whole of the valley. Wind and sand whipped around in a violent rage, fueled by some strange energy that began to permeate the whole of the Valley of the Dark Lords. There were ancient powers at work here, such like Petrichor had not seen in many years.

He took his mind away from the battle once again, looking toward the tomb as he spoke.

"I see. Hopefully you will find what you are looking for."

Petrichor didn't wish to push the issue of her husband, as he wasn't sure how touchy of a subject it would be. He understood the concept of loss well, as it had been a large part of his own path through the years. Even the loss of his master, despite his horrible qualities, was instrumental in setting Petrichor down the road he was now on. Without killing him, the Dark Heretic may have never realized the missteps of his Sith brethren.

"Originally, I tried reasoning with my fellow Sith. Some listened, but most were so drunk on power that they became deaf to my words. I have spent years finding those that would listen, many of which fight in the battle for this very planet. I have done my best to mend relations with the Jedi as well, though that has been a task in itself."

His eyes poured over the entrance to the tomb, searching for clues as to what may await them within.

"Unfortunately, there is only so much one can do when so many refuse to listen. I have had to resort to force more times than I would like. And now, I seek to speak to someone; an individual that I never saw myself communing with again. However... I am running out of options. Peace is slowly becoming a fantasy without violence, and it pains me to think that so many of my brethren will die... particularly by my own hand."

A deep breath followed.

"I hope that perhaps there will be wisdom that can be gleaned from one that has seen the other side. Something that I have missed, that may yet prevent further death."

With those words, he entered the tomb...

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 lightsaber, armorweave jacket

Theme

The storm grew in size and ferocity as Jorel and the rest of the remaining Petrite forces pushed their way up the hill. Those that had begun their flanking maneuver were finding their footing, albeit slowly. As for Jorel and his Exalted, they pushed directly up to the corvette, slowly stepping onto the wreckage that was still alight with flame. They had to watch their step, as the burning remains of the ship were still hot to the touch. They would be hindered, should a melee erupt, as their footing would be at risk of being compromised.

In the rear, the Excerpts continued their fight against the Rhandite sorcerers and their minions. They were managing to hold their position, though they had taken considerable losses. And for each Excerpt that fell, so to did they rise again as an enemy. The undead themselves weren't exactly capable fighters, but their numbers and sheer unwavering purpose made them a formidable obstacle.

Even as they slowly pushed through the endless tide of risen corpses, the Excerpts still had yet to endure before reaching their goal. The sand itself seemed to lash out at them, cutting them wherever they were exposed. Then, the sorcerers themselves began their counterattack.

Large lances of pure darkness began to fly through the air, catching the Excerpts by surprise. As the first few found their target, armor and flesh aged and deteorated, causing many to fall on impact. Those that understood what was happening were unable to voice their knowledge over the sound of the storm, resulting in further loss of life. As the battle raged on, the Excerpts slowly adapted, though many had fallen. Their would be no retreat, for the storm would take them. The only thing left for them to do was push forward.

Back at the fallen corvette, Jorel continued to make his way across the impromptu bridge. As he neared its precipice, he could see the leader of the Warbands, standing atop the wreckage in a final act of defiance. Jorel's hand tightened around his lightsaber as he stared the man down.

"This will be your end, savage," he muttered under his breath. The anger began to swell within him again, beginning to reach another boiling point. Jorel knew that he had to end this soon, lest he make another miscalculation within his rage. The Exalted were moving close behind him, ready to assist in putting the man down...

Then the ship began to rumble with signs of life.

Out of the burning wreckage came crawling more of the undead horde, slowly pulling themselves out of the flames in a menacing advance. Jorel could feel his rage burning as hot as the very wreckage beneath their feet as he watched the blasphemous hordes approaching. He took a moment to recenter himself, drawing his second lightsaber as he spoke.

"Keep these corpses off of me. The leader is mine."

The second blade roared to life, and Jorel began to sprint toward his opponent, eager to strike him down.

​

 

[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 , Albrecht F. Herlock , Tristan Evore , Relynia Sorrene , Constantine Oliva , Dracken Pryce, AC, NIO, GA, SJC

Enemies: Tu'teggacha , Darth 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

Theme

The Vice Chancellor's reply was swift, and brought a sense of relief to Pietro. Tithe's assistance allowed them more freedom to move, leaving them to take out what retreating ships they could.

"Commander, fire on those retreating Maw ships. In the meantime, keep our fighters close. I don't want a single boarding party stepping foot on this The Light of Ruusan."

The order was met with the echo of further orders relayed to the fleet, prepping to take the fleeing Maw vessels out of the equation once and for all. Pietro felt that the day may yet be won, and offered a prayer to Ashla in thanks. His unwavering faith kept his mind clear, and his reflexes sharp. He had not known how this battle would end, but he began to feel hope.

"Sir, fighters are engaging approaching vessels. They seem to be keeping the Maw at bay, though we should be ready to pull away from the advance, should their ships get through."

Pietro shot a frustrated look to the commander, leaning forward in his command chair as he spoke.

"We will leave when necessary, commander. In the meantime, bring those ships down. I want to break their fleet. Once we have done so, we will fire all weapons at the Fatalis."

The commander gave Pietro a concerned look in return. He was right to do so, Pietro told himself. There were many factors at play here, and putting all of their eggs in this one basket would surely be a gamble. The cardinal tapped his hand against the arm of his chair as he pondered the commander's suggestion.

Could they hold this course until the end? Would there be enough time? Pietro quickly pushed the questions away as he finally continued to speak.

"Ashla is clearly with us, commander. We have yet to lose a single ship, and our fighters have proved more than formidable. These Mawites are scattering to the winds, and we will see that none leave here alive. With such a force at our back, we cannot fail. It is the will of Ashla!"

Despite those words, there was a small piece of Pietro, somewhere deep down, that provided only the faintest of concerns. Was there something more horrific on the horizon? The cardinal did not know. What he did know, was that time was of the essence, and they had to keep moving.

 

[Vector Monk]

VALLEY OF THE DARK LORDS
KORRIBAN
Starlin Rand

​

"Wonderful," Vector scowled.

Gone was the look of terror for there had been no true danger. Ancient spirits posed little threat to the pure or devious but Captain Monk hoped Starlin might be driven by fear to embrace the darkside. A clever trap unwittingly avoided. He tried not to let his annoyance shine through at this Jedi oaf who soiled unholy ground with every step. If Nimdok's protege could not be corrupted Vector would have to dispose of the nuisance.

"I need more light!" he exclaimed in reverence, "Starfish! Bring that laser sword over here, would you kindly?"

With a melodramatic sense of caution Monk crept toward the empty throne on tip toe. He knelt down to inspect its stone pedestal, cycling through several settings on his monocole. By the glow of Starlin's lightsaber he passed one hand gently over a barely legible engraving worn down by time. His heart raced at the sight of Sith runes.

"There is writing here in the Old Tongue...it has been defaced!" the Sith agent's genial mask twisted in fury, "Wretched tomb robbers no doubt! I must have proof this is Lord Vader's final resting place. There should be a sarcophagus around here somewhere...aha!"

Vector scurried over to an ornate Sith burial casket. His face quickly grew red with exertion and veins bulged as Captain Monk heaved desperately against its stone lid.

"Don't just stand there dear fellow, help me open it!"

 

[Ishida Ashina]

AT THE END OF ALL THE LIGHT KNOWN
KORRIBAN | SITH ACADEMY | LIBRARY
When you get to the end of all the light you know
and it's time to step into the darkness of the unknown,
faith is knowing that one of two things shall happen:
either you will be given something solid to stand on,
or you will be taught how to fly.

SWEET HELL
​

"I am, and this time I won't be alone."

Unlike on Prosperity, she didn’t shirk from his touch to her shoulder this time.

Still as stone, Ishida studied him in silence. His irisless eyes were focused, intent on matching hers and not evading her evaluation.

Her question had been only a few words, seeking reassurance, but he’d altered the outcome to include her. Whatever worries he harboured, he willingly extended the invitation for her to participate. To support and, if necessary, protect. That’s what she understood –– and she quietly considered if she’d be able to accept the responsibility of partnership here. That responsibility would see that one of the scales tipped by the end of the day, and the source of her hesitation would be discovered.

Was she ready for that?

Several heartbeats thumped between the end of his sentence and her gesture of affirmation.

Eventually, her appraisal reached a conclusion and she slipped a hand over his gloved one on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"I'm going to stay right here with you,"

He’d been willing, even if he hadn’t been ready, even if she’d previously admitted to planning to kill him. It was her turn now, whether she was ready or not. At least an opportunity to remedy her insulting treatment of his mortality, when he’d only met her with kindness.

Nodding once, she turned away back to the hallway with reinstituted faith in this mutual adventure. The door sealed behind them, eclipsing them in shadows, only their outlines catching the light from dim crimson.

Treading through the dark corridor was like travelling through an artery to the heart of darkness. Swept up in its bloodstream, a foreign chill eclipsed her body, sending frigid sensations whispering, hoarse unholiness against her skin. She’d anticipated evil here, but the constant feedback loop from The Force was incredible, and she involuntarily grit her teeth against it. It rippled and curdled, corrupted and bristled.

The more she concentrated, the louder it got. Murmurings and exchanges all throughout the vicinity. She had to dial it back, withdraw from the requests for sacrifice, evil taunts, torturous exchanges, terrorized minds, pain, rage, hate –– its hokum almost hurt.

It had to be expunged.

The corridor didn’t give many options to diversify their approach, and soon the hushed silhouettes were poised over the location Bernard had arrived at once-upon-a-Korriban ago.

Their pause was brief, once arrived — given Ishida’s constant MO: Hesitation is defeat.

She spared none and quickly removed the obstacle between them and the foundation below.

It didn’t matter how subtle or stealthy they’d been. Chaos unfolded in the library, and Ishida drew in a sharp breath to centre herself.

Explosions outside the academy were finding their way inside. Parts of the second floor’s walls were cracked, crumbling and aflame. Areas of the ground were scorched, and ash was finding its way in through fissures in the building's integrity. It cast the space in an otherworldly sort of superheated glow and reflected the intense burn Ishida felt knotting behind her ribs in reaction to the scene.

Through smoke and fire, she felt it before she heard or saw it: The pain, the shouts and screams, the unnecessary destitution of dignity and chance.

From their vantage point, Bernard and Ishida were voyeurs to a hideous exhibition of carnage and unnecessary maiming. The New Jedi Order’s purpose here was to bring sanctuary to those in need. In Ishida’s mind, she’d already eliminated any of the Sith within that category. But the soldiers below them, the victims under the unscrupulous cruelty of hideous creatures emanating the darkside — with amour matched those of the Defense Force. They fell into that category.

She shook her head in disbelief at the blood…Gluttonous displays of ichor, disregard for the life-sustaining liquid had never been so apparent. If she weren't so disgusted, she would have gasped in horror. Instead, through grit teeth, she said his name as if it were some sort of indication of her next steps.

"Bernard.."

After that, the twitch of her hand was hardly noticeable when she chose to reach over her shoulder for her most practiced weapon. With her judgement was declared in an instant, the mental gavel squashed any chance for any of the Sith's redemption.

No lots were cast on behalf of the evildoers, the torturers, the Mawites who saw fit to tease and toy and showcase their brutal savagery. In an unseen, fluid motion, her katana and sabre were ablaze and she was gone.

MASSACRE
​

When she’d first started training with Sardun, the Force seemed to fall silent -- not to desert her, but to become no more than an instinct or alarm when needed. As time went on, and she grew to appreciate the graciousness of Ashla’s influence however, Ishida found herself connecting to everything around her, as though she were in a meditative trance. Now her movements were unthinking and trusting. A whirl of white amidst the falling ash and smouldering flames. She’d not wait for suggestive forms to guide her, but purely The Force. And with that guidance, she could see actions and reactions seconds or milliseconds before they were executed, and she gracefully adapted to counter them.

Her sudden arrival drew their fire. It was a trigger reaction at first, and the bolt easily glanced off her sabre.

Smaller than the insidious Mawites, Ishida went low. The primary torturer, from her limited observation, was her target. They saw her coming, stepped back from the prisoner they’d been actively manipulating, and squared themselves to knock the little Jedi from her feet.

Ishida ducked beneath the oncoming swing of a barbaric weapon. Their miss resulted in their pure strength cracking through the library’s flooring. She adjusted, thrusting her blade upward from her position while they were stuck in this crouch –– the tip of the sword came through the other side of their neck. The attacker perished with a wet choke.

She baited out lethal strikes, danced out of reach, then slipped back into their guard to deliver fatal blows. There was finesse to her massacre. She didn’t jerk one way or spasm another, everything looked purposeful, intentional, righteous. In her wake, marking the spaces her feet had been, were streaks of black from misfired plasma that charred the ground. Shots that didn’t have the chance to miss, she redirected. Stopping their travel to the tile or worse, her body.

One or two landed, leaving smoking holes on the shooter's thigh, and groin. Again, Ishida sought to close the distance and skewer her sword through –– but they adjusted their approach. Instead of just shooting, they pulled back to attack, unsheathing a secondary brutish weapon that forced her to lunge early to get inside the arc of his swing. His arm went around her, and she felt the crushing weight of the club slam into her shoulder blade, which made her right arm go pins-and-needles numb. She shoved the hilt of her katana into his throat, and even though she couldn’t feel it, her arm did what she told it to. The other, her sabre, went for the stomach. The shooter emptied his hands and clutched his throat with both hands, gagging before he looked down helplessly.

Another partner kicked her in the back twice. One kick hit her kidney. It felt like someone set off a small bomb in her lower back and through her organs, and she gasped, planted her foot, and pivoted. Hard. Furious enough to draw her sabre’s blade searing through their exoskeleton armour, flesh, muscles, and a bit bone to gauge an unstitchable chasm across their torso.

The Sith did not scream, cry, or beg as they fought. Their autonomy was exchanged for servitude to The Darkside. She could feel it rolling from them, their sinister intentions. Thus, the Padawan exhibited no mercy. Recompense for the inhumane treatment of The Alliance’s soldiers and likely countless others before––– but she'd ensure there'd no more mistreatment by their wicked hands after today.


ALLIES | GA | NJO | NIO | AC | Bernard | Aaran Tafo
FOES | BOTM | SITH |

 

[Tegan Starfall]

Post: 5
Objective: Snakes on this Plane
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: All in the valley or near the Valley

---

Tegan had found her way into the interior of the ship it wasn’t hard for some of her diminutive size to find a crack or hole she could squeeze into. She found her herself in a broken corridor her eyes falling on the zombies inside moving towards any exit they could find literally ripping themselves apart to get out of this metal contraption, Tegans booted feet moved forward stepping over debris and body parts. She stepped near a living person reaching out to her, they were crushed beneath some rumble. Tegan looked down at the man who was begging her for help, her orange eyes just starred at him. He reached and cried out towards the woman with a painted face.


She could have easily saved the man or even given him a mercy killing as even she had saved him, he would no doubt be crippled and in pain for the rest of his life. Yet she just stood there and stared down at him. She looked on the man like he was an insect one she wanted to stomp on and end his pathetic existence. Yet she did not even want to do that in actuality, stomping on him ending his misery would give him meaning and purpose which he did not have to her.


She just turned and walked away continuing her path to the Hyperdrive that called to her. She walked past both undead and truly dead. Corpses burned and there cooking flesh permeated the air all around her. The smell didn’t even seem to bother her, she had smelt it before many times. She continued her Path the Call of the Hyperdrive pushing her forward.


She felt a chill in the air as she walked and she could feel somewhere else on this world something dark and sinister had played out. She closed her eyes as she pushed forward and ther eit was she could feel Darth Solipsis . He had pulled off a feat that so many Sith had attempted and failed at. Tegan smirked and whispered to herself. "Took you long enough, Child."

Outside the sands whipped about as the Excerpts and Rhandites clashed Darkside versus the way of the Dark. The Rhandites magick was formidable but the Excerpts still had the number even if severally diminished at this point. The Excerpts where also multifaceted in terms of combat and close quarters they were also vastly superior. The Rhand Sorcerers found themselves being pushed back trying to get some distance to throw their dark spells. There ranks fell from two dozen just to dozen, the fallen rose again though and excerpts were doing well but there numbers where quickly being exceeded by the Undead ranks.

​

The Dozen Rhandites need distance and a moment to regrouped and they were frantically looking for a temporary out. One of the dozens broke away from the rest and began chant as he pounded his fist into the ground over and over and as he did the serpents of Korriban began to slither up from the sands to the surface. The Snakes by themselves were easy to fend off but they had something of a collective mind and the more of them that came together the strong they would get. The Rhandites might lose this fight but they sure as hell were going to take allot of Excerpts with them.

 

[Dagon Kaze]

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

She spun away and he didn't follow, instead - withdrawing two steps back and readjusting his footing. Shoulders slightly slumped and chest heaving from exhaustion, battered and bruised, the scorch mark left on his chest now only one of many their dance had conjured. On the edge of plummeting to death, adrenaline surged. Dagon Kaze never felt more alive. Through the weight of wounds he accumulated due to his 'date', he managed to clear his mind enough and steady his breath (as much as that was possible).

The raven-haired Jedi let his blade drop down to his side, easing the tension from his forearms, and listened to her speak. Her words carried an eerie tone and ominous meaning; something beyond his reach, maybe even beyond the reach of the material galaxy. The bright teal burning in her eyes like portals to a different world, a different plane of existence. Or inexistence. Beneath the veil of faux warmth lied a maw that sought to swallow him alive.

Somewhere in there was Danika, he assumed.

"Whatever misery it is, Lady--" he replied, a frown crossing his face before it softened, "--I'm sure we can deal with it together."

"...it's never too late."

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

6TH 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)
48 XT-62 Cataphract Tanks (-7)
18 Scout-AFVs (-2)
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 XI - SOMETHING UNEXPECTED

'He's right.', the Mongrel chimed in, understanding the merit to Shugg's words as the Netherworld's escapee suggested Gowrie adopt something more predatory than the intimidation or trickery he had exhibited before. Twirling the blade in his mechanical-fingers, the Mawite champion would display the engineering-prowess of the cyberneticist who fitted the arms to replace what had been lost, though Lord Aron had no idea of what had happened with the Kainate; somehow believing it to have been some sort of choice, as if he also could see the way the wars in the galaxy were going, though fate (and the powerful opponents elsewhere) would be the ones to dictate change in such a fashion. But when the Mawite legend was heard inhaling a fresh intake of hot, arid Korriban air, the Kellas was reminded that his opponent was in fact still human under the armour, even discerning the Mongrel's need for a quick finish of his own when he continued,'Give it your all, Gowrie, or this will be over too quickly.', bracing himself for the next round as both fighters set into attacking poise once more.

"If ye hink yer quick enough t'score a decent hit on 'im, or perhaps actually win - ah want that rematch if ye manage it, understand?"​

Reminded of the last thing Erskine said to him before he departed for Vaan, Aron was given a brief flashback of the challenge offered him before his deployment to Korriban, either in the hopes it would motivate the Tuath to survive or in the hopes the challenge would be accepted once the fight with the Mongrel was concluded, Gowrie was still unable to discern properly as the bounded closer to close the distance between each other. The half-swording was always something Gowrie found himself fencing against in his on-and-off spells with swordsmanship throughout his life, and it was always something that Gowrie felt brought life and vibrant spice to the lives of swordsmen, but it was always something the Kellas felt was his duty to be a living antithesis to the older, more dazzling methods of sword-discipline, as Lord Aron had always been a proponent of looking to recent fighting styles with an eye for finding something quite ahead of it's time. However, this fight would be different, as no such room would be allowed for merciful attitudes, and the Lord-Colonel was beginning to feel something of a cruel streak creeping to the forefront of his mind anyway, but one that had required the Kellas to pocket the barbershop razor again before reengaging.

If my opponent would use his blade in weird and wonderful ways, then I guess I'll just be adapting as such.​

With faux left-heavy double grip, the right hand would guide the rapier's blade over the Tuath's shoulder with the left hand, wrist and elbow remaining as loose and light as feathers, feigning an attempt to break through the half-swording approach as the moment to strike was just a few metres away. It was in this moment Lord Aron decided to treat the pommel of his sword as if it were a javelin' spearpoint, throwing it at the face of his opponent before sprinting the last of the distance between them, though what happened was a follow-up blow that none would expect to see a Tuath lord resorting to utilising on a distracted opponent. Knowing he'd be able to clear the low-sitting blade in the sort of distances he could jump, Gowrie still wasn't able to anticipate exactly how high he would jump in the process, attempting to hit the Mongrel square-on in the chest, but going high enough to accidentally achieve a strange take on the Savoldi dropkick instead. The blow, as impactful as it was, would still only send the Mawite commander back a few feet and to land on the ground in a similarly slouched seating-posture to the Tuath opposite him, and none too fazed by it either.

Standing first, Lord Aron would pick up his sword and turn to address the ghost, scowling with bloodshot eyes as he retorted,'Ah'll decide whit's,"DuElLiNg-hAbIt", an' whit's no! Ah'll decide when the best time should be t'make a finishing-attempt! So shut the kark up an' let me fight, Shugg! That sound wae you, aye?', in a tone that brooked no argument on the matter before rounding on the Mawite commander to address him next. The Mongrel gotten to his feet just a few seconds after the Kellas, so he was as good as ready by the time Gowrie was done with his scathing retort to the ghost, and when their mutual attacking poise locked in once more, Lord Aron could tell that his opponent had much and more to give, proving the Mawite would still be a formidable opponent with the limitations of human flesh, and as soon as they were ready, Gowrie would have small words to his opponent in comparison to those he practically spat in his former mentor's direction.

'Mongrel, meet Captain Bruenn McHugh. My former-mentor, former second-in-command to Brigadier-General Erskine Barran, and a royal pain in my back-teeth! AGAIN, DAMNIT!!!'

GALACTIC MOSHPIT: THE TUATH'S CRUCIBLE XII - REED'S ENCOURAGEMENTS

As soon as Valaar and Reed had crested the lower-south plateau of the Mongrel's Hill, they found that it wasn't only their chain reaction that had laid the near-topography to waste in such a fashion, though they would later find out it had been the work of Lady Fortan's Harris squadron specifically; however, this wouldn't be a good sign, as it meant the positions of the Rough Riders had shifted, and that they would be on the move by then, attempting to outflank the AFVs and Aemilio's support-troopers. Reed would hold a hand up to keep quiet as he got on the comm-link to the vehicles in formation behind them, quickly growling,'All AFVs, this is Reed! Back-row, move back an' provide firepower backup for the troops behind us! Move!', before returning his gaze to the scope-sights of his SA-65. Both understood what the shifted positions of their enemies meant, so Valaar approached quietly with a tap on his own right shoulder to signal his own arc of fire rested just over the Woad's shoulder.

'Dunno if you heard that, but ah've sent eight AFVs to back your subordinates up. This brings you to a choice, however.... To go back an' provide backup for the lads ye brought, as a second layer of countering assault - or to push on uphill with the remaining ten vehicles. The choice is one-hundred percent your own to make, no joke. Either-or sounds tasty t'me, mate.'

The sound of swoop-bike engines roaring en masse was almost making the easy decision seem difficult, but knowing the way this young man had lived before Korriban, Alun had found it almost to easy to guess the answer for himself when he raised a hand again with reassurance he had the right prediction. Tearing his gaze from the SA-65's scope-sights once more, Reed turned to his new acquaintance, looking Aemilio in (what he guessed was) the center of his gaze as he whispered,'Lemme guess, Aemilio.... "Forward, only forward!", something like that, aye?', returning his focus to the scope with more than it had to tear his gaze away from. Giving his guess a moment to hit it's mark, as he wanted Aemilio to be proud of that fact, Alun decided to give him a friendly reassurance that pushing forward wasn't necessarily a bad choice to make, and not necessarily a selfish one either.

'If you want my two-credits on the matter, pushing forward regardless of potential roadblocks might just be the best thing any commander could do in your shoes. It puts forth the right sort of image that inspires loyalty and excellence alike, as it shows you're not willing to let infantile distractions drag you away from your objectives.... Good image to put out there anyways, jus' sayin'.'

<"ACV's Thirteen-to-Twenty are in position, an' we've got the armour-piercing slugs loaded - it's all anti-personnel madness from here, sir.">

'Ya hear that, Aemilio? I'd hate to be the fools who charge on that line, so ah would.... So, forward as guessed?'