Annihilation End of an Era: AC Annihilation of Korriban

[The Mongrel]

Location: Korriban, Mawite Excavations
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw | Tegan Starfall
Foes: Ashlan Crusade, NIO, GA | Darth Petrichor | Fiolette Fortan

High Above: The Air War
​

The Spider Cruisers died well. Five corvettes they claimed, exploding among the ranks of the bombing group in a final blaze of glory. Their crews' passage to the Avatars' paradise was certainly assured... but for those beside and below them, the battle was not yet over. One of them was Ajax of Kasparov, among the finest of his House's pilots. Now he was one of three survivors still in the air, piloting his Divine Lightning through the carnage as Bomber Group Harris withdrew. It was a powerful feeling, to see those ships on the retreat, bloodied and reduced in number.

But it was a powerless feeling to see more of them coming.

For the moment, though, there was a lull in the fightning... a moment's pause in a battle with a predetermined outcome. For although Ajax could flee Korriban, escaping with his hyperspace-capable fighter, he and his wingmen would not. How would they face their battle brothers if they stained themselves with such cowardice? There was no one left alive to order the retreat, and so no one retreated. Instead they sought worthy deaths of their own. Three elite starfighters standing against an entire fleet of NIO bombers and bombardiers? Now that was an ending that could beget a legend.

Ajax did not speak to his comrades. There was no need, for they were all linked by the Living Force, and experienced their battle brother's thoughts as clearly as if each idea and emotion had been their own. They had risen high since the days when they had been marauders, elevated to the exalted ranks of the Kasparov Knyghts, and the time had come to prove that the House's faith in them had not been misplaced. The three ships cycled their weapons as they fled through the sand and the lightning, buffeted by winds born of dark magic. Still the enemy did not come, not yet.

So the Knyghts found a way to occupy their time.

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

Northeast: The Petrite Front
​

The Tarar Warbands stood and fought, even if the fight was hopeless. Many carried vibroswords and vibro-axes, while others had attached blades to the stocks of their plasma rifles, making the heavy weapons into deadly close-combat tools as well. They were strong and brutal, fierce and wild, and each time one of them swung it could crack open that crimson Petrite armor... but by then, it was far too late. Their entrenched positions were gone, swept away by the landslide and the bombs and the fissures and the magma. They had no advantage left to counteract the enemy numbers.

So the Petrite troops steadily swept them from the hill.

None of the Tarar fell back any further, even those who could have scrambled for the hilltop ledge. They had all already seen that the NIO had crested the northwestern slope, pushing ahead of the stalemated Ashlans, and would likely soon crest the southern ridge as well. Khazzak the Twisted was dead, and thus giving no further orders, and there was no safety anywhere on Mongrel's Hill; they might as well fight and die where they stood. Without fear they pushed back until their bodies were riddled apart by Petrite blaster bolts, becoming the latest corpses to grace the surface of the tomb world.

But one final obstacle did meet Jorel and his soldiers as they pushed for the slope. Ajax of Kasparov, Knyght of the Maw, led the way as three Divine Eagle fighters descended to strafe the hillside, lighting up the Petrite troops with beam cannons and concussion missiles in a deadly pass. Then the three ships wheeled to do it again. It wasn't just the NIO that could provide air support, after all, and if their bombers were holding back after the casualties they'd taken... well, while the lothcat was away, the womp rats would play. And every kill Ajax made would only further the legend of his last battle.

The climb was about to get a lot harder for the Light Sith.

 

[Isla Draellix-Kobitana]

​

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

OOC NOTE : This post only responds to Tu'teggacha as other relevant fleeters have not had chance to reply so i dont want to skip you[/B]

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

Spoiler: Active Engagements

• • Fatalis fleet
    • Pillar of retribution - Destroyed
    • divine purpose - (taking fire -shields depleted, severe damage to port weapon systems - large hole down port of ship - firing on fatalis- boarded - most boarding battles just mopping up now - most non-essential systems going offline)
    • rapture (taking fire - port shields very low - main bridge destroyed - firing less grouped due to weakened command and control - some weapon batteries down - all fighters launched, significant casualties)
    • Templar 1 (Crippled - loss of most port systems, on emergency power - priority to leave battle via hyperdrive)
    • Templar 2 (taking minor but persistent secondary fire - shields low - minor damage - firing on remaining Crucifix)
    • 6 dominions (switched fire to Fatalis, 3 destroyed, 1 crippled, 2 with weakened shields, Minor damage)
    • 6 principalities (engaging Samael frigates, moving forwards to try and cut down range - 2 defending damaged templar, 1 destroyed - 3 pushing with other templar)
    • 2 wardens - destroyed
    • Phoenix bombers from primary fleet mostly neutralised, only a few squadrons left
  • Eternal rule
    • Fist of Demici (Damage to hangar capability - shields damaged- opening fire - starfighters returning from Eternal Rule)
  • Reserve fleet
    • just arrived from hyperspace, engaging final dawn fleet

Isla had made it to the command bridge of the Mercy's Gift and watched out the viewport as a streak of light briefly lit the darkness, she couldn't see it for herself at this range, but it was clear from her sensors that the Fatalis had escaped. She cursed that she was not able to finish off the vile ship, but was pleased that the rest of its accompanying fleet were gone. For her part, the battle of Korriban was coming to a close. She had one more message for the remaining Mawite survivors, something that she had planned but not discussed with the rest of Ashlan command, worried that their righteous vengeance would cloud her mercy.

She prepared herself for broadcast as two more Ashlan lander ships arrived in the theater and started deploying fighters and collecting escape pods. She was ready to broadcast on all frequencies to the area of space around her own fleet.

​

"To the Mawite survivors of the fleet led by the Fatalis. This is Grand Admiral Isla Draellix of the Ashlan Crusade. Your fleet has been shattered and your leader has escaped into the void, protecting himself but abandoning you. You serve the Bogan but I do not. I reach out to offer you a choice, I will transmit two emergency transponder codes, pick green and my crew's will rescue you, you will be granted safety, fair justice and a chance to atone for your service if the dark lords, and potential for a new life.

Pick red, and my fleet will find you and grant you a quick, painless and merciful death.

if you choose to pick neither, then we will continue this dance until you are destroyed, or run out of fuel and are left to drift in the void of space, you will be captured and treated as prisoners of war, but your refusal to surrender will be noted.

The choice is yours, may the Light if Ashla cleanse you and protect us all."

This would hopefully be received and understood by any drifting Maw escape pods, damaged fighters or other survivors. The idea of hunting down and destroying helpless survivors was unpleasant but she knew enough of the maw that many of them would never atone. Better their deaths last microseconds in the darkness of space than be drawn out in some public spectacle.

She was pleased to see her reserve fleet arriving, and watched as they engaged the maw superweapon, already they were taking heavy damage across the front but were making progress toward the main gun. If they could incapacitate it, it would likely leave, that was enough. She trusted her sub-admiral that she had put in charge of the reserve fleet. Right now she needed medical treatment. Her head was still bleeding and it throbbed painfully.

​

​

 

[Albrecht F. Herlock]

Objective III : It comes...
Location: Korriban's atmosphere and orbit
Equipment: uniform, custom-made blaster pistol, ceremonial sword, telescope

Allies: Ashlan Crusade | NIO | Galactic Alliance | SJC/CIS/EE
Ennemies : Brotherhood of the Maw | Sith

Anaxes Navy Task Force 58 composition:​

Name​	Class​	Status​	Commanding Officer​
X101 Pride of Anaxes (flagship)​	X100-class escort frigate​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Captain Albrecht Herlock​
X102 Audacious​	X100-class escort frigate​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Lieutenant Commander Julius E. Mannerheim​
X103 Courageous​	X100-class escort frigate​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Lieutenant Commander James Halsey​
CV-2 Tonnant​	Tonnant-class fleet carrier​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Commander Erika Richthofen​
Silencieux​	Stealth Corvette Silencieux​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Lieutenant Lucas Traumen​

Legend: comm in, comm out, ship's intercom and broadcast system, crew

On board of the escort frigate Pride of Anaxes
Commanding officer : Captain Albrecht Herlock

"Sir, incoming fighters !"

"Take anti air actions !"

"Aye Sir !"

Suddenly, the anti air batteries of the two frigates started firing, aiming at Tu'teggacha 's fighters, doing some consquent damage. Then, the view became clear.

"Sir, the Fatalis has retreated !"

"Concentrate fire on the remaining ennemy ships and take down those fighters !"

"Aye Sir !"

The Pride started shaking. The shields were breached by some fighters and the frigate started taking damage on the hull. But it wasn't enough to make the ship sink.

"Damage status ?" asked Harlock.

"Shields are broken and we're taking damage on the hull."

"Make the shields operationnal again."

"Aye Sir !"

 

[Khamul Kryze]

Location: a distant tomb

Engaging: Brimstone

Loadout: lightsaber, Mandalorian armor, Regret

Korriban used to be a crown jewel of the Sith, but now, it was nothing but a wasteland. The planet had been brought down by the Sith's own weakness. In truth, it reminded Khamul of his own home. The Brotherhood had seen fit to pick the bones of the planet, and though Khamul thought it a waste of time, he kept a channel open to the forces on the ground in the event of an enemy presence. As was expected, a transmission was sent. He knew that the enemies of the Maw couldn't help themselves; they had to maintain their status as a thorn in the side of the Brotherhood, even if it were for a planet as dead as Korriban.

Instead of joining the fray with the rest of the combatants, the Mandalorian walked the peripheries, seeking a familiar energy. He had felt the presence of the Gen'dai on Ninn, a loss that was still bitter for Khamul. He wanted revenge, and he would do what was necessary to get it.

As he approached the tomb, he could hear the chanting of the enemy near the entrance. Drawing his lightsaber, Khamul calmly walked behind them as they entered the tomb. Once he was in earshot, he called out to their leader.

"You came to Korriban on the wrong day, Gen'dai."

His lightsaber came alive like a roaring flame, and Khamul prepared himself for battle.

 

[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

"No offense taken. As I said, I have been called much worse. Realism is something that I definitely adhere to, though I do allow myself space for hope. There is a chance for anything, even if the chance is small. I simply do my best to calculate ahead of time, that way I can be prepared for as many outcomes as possible."

Petrichor quietly listened as Ingrid relayed her orders. She was quick, direct, and considerate. A fine example of a leader indeed. He began considering visiting her Empire, to see just how far that leadership extended. Perhaps one day he could count her as an ally.

The tomb shook again as more devastation rocked the planet. The forces of light and darkness clashed in the most visceral and palpable of ways now, causing the Force to scatter itself chaotically across the entirety of the planet. Petrichor shot another look at Ingrid at the mention of Caulder Dune .

"Adekos, you say? I thought I felt a familiar presence. I met him, once. Interesting that he should show his face here, and on this day, no less."

The Dark Heretic recalled his meeting with Darth Adekos, at the Sictis Academy. Their conversation was pleasant, though Petrichor couldn't help but to wonder what the man would think of his current involvement with the Ashlan Crusade.

"The Netherworld... perhaps I will take you up on that, emergency or not. I am afraid that I may not be successful here. Perhaps in the Netherworld, I will be."

Now that it was clear that he would not find his master's spirit here, Petrichor felt no need to keep secrets.

"My former master knew his fair share of secrets when it came to the Force, many of which he refused to teach me. I thought that killing him would be the end of our joined path, though lately it has been seeming less so. His spirit still holds those secrets, and I fully intend to find a way to obtain the knowledge for myself. I hoped to find a way here, but it seems that the battle raging above has made that... difficult."

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

The push up the hill was finally picking up once again. With their leader dead and their defensive positions compromised, the remaining members of the Tarar Warbands were doomed to be slain to the last. In the traditional Mawite fashion, they had opted to stay and fight, even though it meant certain doom. The Petrite Troopers continued taking losses, whether by enemy fire or blade, but they continued to gun down the remaining defenders.

With the assistance of the Exalted, Jorel managed to clear the makeshift bridge that was the fallen corvette. The Exalted maintained a perimeter around their commander, cutting down the undead that seemed to endlessly crawl from the burning wreckage. As they began to climb off of the ship, Jorel looked to the skies. He had wondered how many of the allied forces had made it out of the blast, if any. Then, in the periphery of his line of sight, he caught a glimpse of something in the distance.

It was difficult to see through the storm that still raged around the hillside, though he could make out the vaguest of shapes moving toward their position. Then, the unmistakable glow of cannons flickered, and Jorel understood what was about to happen. He desperately called out to the remaining forces upon the hillside as they continued their push.

"All units, take cover!"

There wasn't exactly much in the way of cover; the destruction of the battle had seen to that. He just hoped that the warning would be enough to save some of his troops.

The first run was a successful one, with Troopers falling to the unexpected barrage of gunfire. The ground lit up around them as they scrambled up the remaining part of the hill. The second run was less devastating, but still took its toll on the Petrite forces. They would not be able to sustain the advance if something wasn't done soon. Jorel had to think of a plan, and fast, lest they be utterly destroyed.

​

 

[Cass Gemini]

There was the smallest spike in radiation, virtually undetectable against the background of swirling combat, energy discharges and explosions as the Midnight Kyber slipped silently into the system, its cloaking device rendering it invisible to enemy scanners.

Cass Gemini whistled as her screens updated with the tactical situation. She had never seen so many ships from so many factions in one place, her contact had underestimated the scale of the carnage here. The orbit of Korriban was a graveyard. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle and felt a knot in her stomach as the scale of death washed over the force sensitive captain. She couldn't show her unease though, not in front on her crew.

This was even more dangerous than she had planned "Right crew", she announced, confidently striding over to her second. "There are a few more ships here than we expected, but that just means more loot, keep the hyperdrive warmed up and make sure the HIMS is ready. If we are detected we may need to make a quick withdrawal."

She looked at her priority list for loot, fuel and ordanance was number one, rare equipment was second, but that was always hard to find on mostly destroyed ships. The scale of destruction was awe inspiring, so many ruined ships floated past her viewers. She saw the trails of two starfighters streak past, it made her confident that she was undetected.

"Captain Gemini, we have found something a mawite support vessel, mostly intact but with no life support, detecting Coaxium and Pyronium, permission to investigate."

"Take us over, but keep us running quiet, we don't want to be found too quiclky"

​

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

MANUMISSION
BRIDGE, MORAI // KORRIBAN ORBIT

Dracken Pryce | Isla Draellix-Kobitana | AC | GA | NIO
Tu'teggacha | Aldo Garrick | MAW | SITH

Task Force Venality Coreward edge of the engagement zone Morai, Morai-class Super Star Defender Critically damaged, power partially restored Autarchy, Avalon-class Corvette Critically damaged Purgill, Oswaft-class Corvette Critically damaged 2/70 E-Wing Starfighters 5/72 Y-Wing Starbombers 1/10 support craft squadron Destroyed by Avatar of War Mon Clistenes, MCv110-class Multirole Frigate Mon Helios, MCv110-class Multirole Frigate Absolution, Avalon-class Corvette Amnesty, Avalon-class Corvette Autonomy, Avalon-class Corvette Drogheda Bounty, XY-48-class Freighter 36 B-Wing Starfighters 60 A-Wing Interceptors 24 X-Wing Starfighters Task Group Avidity Moving to reinforce 3rd Sector Fleet Arquebus, Emancipation-class Artillery Cruiser Destroyed by Brotherhood starfighters Mon Borea, MCv110-class Multirole Frigate Destroyed by Brotherhood starfighters Mon Tellus, MCv110-class Multirole Frigate Critically damaged Chiaki, Oswaft-class Corvette Critically damaged Phillak, Oswaft-class Corvette Heavily damaged 6/36 E-Wing Starfighters 3/24 Y-Wing Starbombers 1/12 B-Wing Starfighters Task Unit Esurient Surveying Korriban system 8/8 Ferret II Recon Drones

Aerarii Tithe had heard countless dire financial updates in his time - generally those of his competitors - but the numbers coming through from the bridge of the Morai would long haunt him. A macabre tally was provided minute by minute as contact was lost with escort vessels and starfighters damaged by the Avatar of War’s superlaser blast. In a cruel twist of fate, the powerful shields which protected the Super Star Defender had reflected the energy into friendly forces, frying their life support systems. The freighter Drogheda Bounty was the most recent casualty added to the list of lost assets. A pity, Tithe had plans for the mining vessel.

There was little time to mourn the losses, less Tithe be added to the wrong column of the balance sheet.

The turbolift reached the forward executive docking bay of the Super Star Defender. The doors of the liftcar parted to reveal a scene of chaos, with flaming debris slew across the usually pristine deck. The Vice Chancellor began to pick his way between the damage control droids who were hurrying back and forth to conduct emergency repairs. At the far end of the docking bay sat his lifeline - the Fiduciary.

Reports continued to come through from the battle outside. The Brotherhood’s super star destroyer analogue had broken the Ashlan Cruscade’s interdiction and jumped away to safety. Tithe opened a channel to the intelligence department. “I trust that we have a trace?”

“Crunching the numbers now sir,” the analysis replied. Eight Ferret II reconnaissance drones scattered around the edges of the Korriban system were busily exchanging their trajectory data on hyperspace vector of the Brotherhood’s flagship. “Sir, we got ‘em.”

Tithe exhaled loudly with relief. That was something. “Now that, that I like the sound of. Transmit the coordinates to IVI as a matter of priority! Yes, if we can hit them again before they recover...” He left the implication hanging - knocking out the massive enemy ship might just be enough to justify the losses the Alliance had suffered. He switched his comlink to the operations department. “Dispatch Avidity to support High Admiral Dracken Pryce ,” he ordered. What remained of the small Alliance fleet limped toward Ouroboros to aid them against the Maw Irregular Fleet.

For a battle where victory had appeared preordained, the cost the Alliance had paid today was high. Only the future would tell if the investment had been prudent.

The Vice Chancellor clambered into his shuttle just as Isla Draellix-Kobitana gave her ultimatum to the remaining Brotherhood forces. While Tithe was happy to fight alongside the Crusade against a common enemy, the fanaticism they displayed in their reverence to the Ashlan religion did not sit well with him. While they were allies today, it was no difficult to see a situation when the two looked out across the battlefield at one another as enemies. He would need to be prepared.

Tithe dropped himself in the pilot seat of the shuttle and buckled himself in. He looked up at the console…

… and remembered that he had no idea how to fly the vessel. He’d always had staff to do that.

Outside in the docking bay, a repair droid momentary paused its assigned task and directed its visual sensors to a garishly decorated shuttle across the deck. The droids audio sensors had picked up a string of loud noises which did not match anything on record, suggesting that something near the shuttle was operated outside normal parameters and was in need of repair. The droid transmitted the signal to the central processing for analysis.

The response came back a second later - ignore, and continue on current tasking. The noise had been matched with high certainty to human male screaming curse words related to poor financial performance, followed by what sounded like sobbing. A medical droid had been requested to attend.

The repair droid returned its attention to the damaged bulkhead and activated its welding probe.

 

[Brimstone]

Location: half buried pyramid in southern desert

Engaging Khamul Kryze

Brimstone heard the visitor and then saw the red glow from his blade.

"Is there a right day to come to this rock?" He called back out in a mocking laugh. "You'll have to remind me sith, have we met?" He genuinely couldn't remember, but sounding deliberately dismissive would only taunt the siths undoubtedly swollen pride.

He gave a nod to his men, two of which raised their rifles and fired, two others tossed detonators, a standard tactic to try and catch a force user off guard.

As they did this, Brim unclipped his Forsetti fire axe and advanced on the sith.

​

 

[The Battalion]

The tug of war began in earnest truly over the soul of the Planet. The Ancient Spirits, howling and railing over the desecration of their world, desecrated it further still in their deadly Spiritual Rampage to punish the invaders. Rocks would spontaneously explode across all the battlefield, the discharges of red lightning both in the Atmosphere as well as the ground, while now mess frequent, grew much more destructive when they hit. Even cruisers and corvettes were at risk being too close to the atmosphere at this point.

A single Coral Skipper with a Fett Clone pilot stayed at the periphery of battle as it unfolded, watching the whole process play out. The Fatalis jumped. Reserve fleet jumped in, to engage the Super-Weapon. Let them. It was time.

He gave out the signal over comms. Three beeps.

A freshly salvaged and restored Arquitens Class Cruisers, absolutely surrounded by salvaged or purchased Vong Cruisers and scout ships equipped with Dovin Basals jumped into the system. All the ships were used, commanding a relatively low price on the Black market, especially since it was all out of date. Hopelessly out of date. Close to the planet they arrived, but not too close. They were followed an instant later by four CR-90's that had been stripped of all non essential equipment and filled with explosives, the bridge sections replaced with a heavy, solid ramming apparatus.

Xiphos had indeed come to save Korriban, but, as was so typical of Xiphos, she had come to do it a way that inflicted as many horrific losses possible to her enemies. Which, today, was everybody.

Everybody was about to finally see the size of the chit sandwich she had been preparing.

Attached to the Arquitens by crude welding and sustained by light and dark magics was the sun generator Xiphos had taken from the ancient warship. What would happen here would destroy both the ship and the generator, with barely any time to evacuate. But it had to be done. There was no guarantee the reserve fleet could stop the superweapon.

There was no singing over the comms by the Model 2's in command. That would give it away too early who they were as they sped to the planet.

Two of the Vong Advanced Scout Ships broke off from the Arquitens cruiser as they got closer to the planet, flanked by four coral skippers hiding behind them. Two of the Coral Skippers had a deadly payload of a single Void 007 Charge, and they were heading for the Super Star Defender that Aerarii Tithe was on. They didn't trust anything less than two for something that big.

One Ramship broke off, heading for the damaged ship that bore the name sake of Pietro Demici , flanked by two Vong Cruisers to escort the deadly payload to its murderous destination.

Both groups, like the rest of Xiphos's ad hoc fleet, had come immediately under fire. But their ships were outdated. They wouldn't last too long when things got really bad. Plus, they were all rather small. Most of the commanders were likely laughing at this small rag tag fleet of salvaged ships. They wouldn't be laughing soon.

The rest of the ships guarded the Arquitens fanatically as it got ever closer to Korriban.

For the Super Star Defender, the Advance Scout ships would fire the living Yorik Guns that had made the Vong so feared, firing a large volley at all the most damaged parts of the ship they could spot one scout ship getting utterly destroyed by return fire, than another, letting the fighters have time to split off and do what they needed to do to attack it from two different ends, until the remaining one and the fighters flanking it broke away in a U-Turn retreat, the four Vong fighters piloted by Fett Clones getting destroyed. But not before releasing their payload.

Two Void Charges went off a fair distance from both ends of the ship. Unfortunately they had not been able to set it off at point blanks ranges like they wanted, but the destructive waves came to the Super Star Defender fast and inexorable. Even if they could not destroy it, surely they would damage enough of it to keep it out of commission for months. And if they did destroy it, well, free XP!

As the waves rushed towards the defender, outcome uncertain, the Ramship got ever closer to the Fist of Dimici. One cruiser had already been destroyed, and the other was barely holding out before it too was destroyed by the Dimici's guns. But they still hadn't gotten the ramship, only damaged it's hull.

An internal count down went off as it went to full engines to try and violently ram and explode it's payload at close range...

Meanwhile, while the most ancient of Korriban's spirits now began to challenge Darth Solipsis , attacking the core of his spirit with their pure hatred and command of the Bogan to try and disrupt his control (Ironically giving Cedric Grayson and Auteme a possible chance to do something without meaning to), The Battalion channeled the rest of the ancient spiritual power of Korriban's very essence upward into the atmosphere.

Red Lightning leapt from the planet's electrosphere, the earth quakes growing much worse.

The lightning traveled in a red stream to the enchanted generator, leaping into it's sun as the witches aboard the cruiser it rested upon and the Heretical Sith below chanted terrible things. The energy from the enchanted generator glimmered red, a focus to reach out to reality...

...and tear...

A sliver of black started to appear in the void of space over the planet. DECEASED Aron Gowrie and The Mongrel would likely see it from orbit, this harsh, black tear in space. A crack in localized reality to the netherworld, to Oblivion, growing wider...

Isla Draellix-Kobitana

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: The Fatalis, in hyperspace / Starfighters, in the Korriban system
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw | KV-6000 | Derix Tirall | Marlon Sularen | Aldo Garrick
Foes: Ashlan Crusade, NIO, GA | Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Aerarii Tithe | Albrecht F. Herlock | Cass Gemini

A strange thing happened when the Fatalis left the Korriban system: half the Mawite fighters, maybe more, just stopped. Every single Darkshear-class Swarm Fighter abruptly quit firing or maneuvering and instead just drifted in a straight line, propelled by still-active engines or simple inertia. Inside the cockpit of each Darkshear, the pilot lay still, drooling on the crude seat. Every last one of them was an immature clone, ripped from the growth pods far too early, that had been controlled by the Heathen Priests through a smokestone chip implanted in their brains. They had been Force-puppets, not soldiers.

And now the priests were too far away to pull their strings.

So squadron after squadron of Darkshears simply drifted away, crashing into debris or becoming easy pickings for enemy fighters and point defense. This was not a great loss to the Maw, not compared to the star destroyers and frigates that had been blown apart; the swarm fighters and their pilots were cheaply made, intended to be expendable. But there were other fighters still in the system, fighters whose loss would sting far more. First among them were the Doomsayer fighter-bombers. The craft were elite and expensive, and many of their pilots were veterans of Csilla and other such battles.

These pilots listened as Admiral Draelix made her offer. Had they not been fanatics, slave-soldiers conditioned in the dungeons beneath Gehinnom to serve no master but the Brotherhood, they might have considered the proposal merciful. As it was, they saw only a choice of how they would die. Even if they transmitted that green code, they did not, could not, believe in rehabilitation. Their lives belonged to the Maw, and their entry into paradise was dependent on a worthy death in service to the Avatars. Their minds had been twisted and broken, making them unable to accept Ashlan mercy.

So not one of the Doomsayers transmitter either of the transponder codes; they would seek their own fiery endings. Of course, they were not the only Brotherhood fighters remaining; there were also a number of Divine Eagles and their elite Knyght pilots, and these vessels were equipped with hyperdrives. They faced an actual choice: to stay and fight, as Ajax of Kasparov had in the airspace over Mongrel's Hill, or to fall back. Should they seek their glorious end alongside the Doomsayers? Ordinarily they might... but perhaps they had a higher calling, a responsibility to the Mawite war effort.

They needed to protect the Fatalis. One by one, they jumped to hyperspace.

That left the Doomsayers alone, without cover... but they fought bravely to the last. They dove in at the Pride of Anaxes, opening up with ion fire and concussion missiles, and at the Ashlan Principality-class corvettes, hoping to do serious damage to some of the smaller enemy vessels. That was their best chance to make a kill before they were destroyed. They were durable for starfighters, but they sacrificed speed and maneuverability for armor and offensive power, and that meant they would be easy prey for enemy interceptors now that their fighter cover was gone. Soon they'd be gone too.

In all the chaos, no one noticed the stealthy arrival of the Midnight Kyber. The scavengers were bold to try to loot the wrecks while the battle was still raging, but it did mean they'd get first pick of the spoils. The Mawite vessel they encountered was the Hollow Heart, one of the Samael-class vessels destroyed relatively early in the battle. Its corridors had been breached and depressurized, and a halo of corpses surrounded the drifting hulk, but the hull hadn't broken up, making it an ideal scavenging target. Even better, the engines were intact, which meant coaxium fuel could be siphoned.

Of course, it would be dangerous to scavenge with cannonfire still flying.

In the depths of hyperspace, racing toward the hidden rendezvous point, the Taskmaster did not know that his trajectory had been recorded by the Alliance recon drones... but he remembered all too well what had happened in the wake of Csilla. The damaged Fatalis had been tracked down to the northern edge of Chiss space, where it had nearly been destroyed again in a First Order ambush. It would be a long and difficult road back to Osseriton, crossing the fallen Sith Empire and the northern fringe of Alliance territory. Their only hope was frequent jumps along secret hyperspace paths.

Even then, they would come to know the feeling of being hunted...

 

[Aemilio Valaar]

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

IMPERIAL MILITARY ASSISTANCE GROUP
IN ASSISTANCE TO | ASHLAN CRUSADE

Voidwalker: The Head
​

While he could see the form of the Cirihut he was facing against, he could not see the extent of the wound he had inflicted on the warrior. Not without taking a careful look that'd take much too long. Aemilio continued to lurch past, the blade of his vibrosword carved through the upper layers of flesh like a hot knife through butter. The Cirihut remained steady. There was a sense danger twinging at the back of his neck, coaxing Aemilio to twist his head about to cast a quick glance over his shoulder. It was then that he caught sight of the power mace's frame descending upon him.

Instinctively, his head lurched out of the way of the blow. The forearm where the flames had been expelled from flew up to protect his head and collar region. The mace descended, and crashed into his curled up arm that was acting as a makeshift shield against the attack. Where the flames had been expelled from, the metal was crushed, bending and contorting out of shape as the full weight of the blow crashed into his upper bicep and the side of his shoulder.

His adrenaline was high, and the armour did much of the work in protecting him, but the pain was still there.

Impact gels within his suit cracked as they absorbed the attack, all but crumbling to dust as the reinforced metal did all it could to not come off of him entirely.

"Gah!" He cried out.

The impact sent him crashing down into the cracking surface of the planet. The ultrasonic generator was triggered, and with a limp right arm, he slashed upwards with his left in an effort to cleave the mans leg left leg off. The upwards slash on a direct course for that space just above the knee.

Torayga: The Rear
​

Experiencing the extent of the chaos on foot, compared to riding within an armoured vehicle gave the Zabrak the realization that this was truly hell.

Perhaps they were not meant to have struck so far into the Tingel Arm, into the heartland of the Sith Empire. The New Imperials all but hated Force users. And to come to a planet teeming with it... He blinked, his mind brought back to the crying out faces of those Galidraani AFV operators who were reaching before falling into a chasm, trapped within their vehicle... It was like the planet itself was revolting against the Imperial presence, doing all it could to consume them.

Familiar IFF's began to come to life as the final rows of AFV's made their final charges up the hill to reinforce Reed.

Scrambling up to his feet, he clambered on to the side of the nearest one. Slung rifle being dragged back along to his front. The first of the dugouts the legion of the leech had used already past them. Troopers remained onboard their vehicles and would send in a handful of primed grenades to their holes and trenches. Should any of the mercenaries still be alive, Torayga was certain they wouldn't be as plumes of sand and dirt flew up into the air before being replaced by many more grains to fill up the space that had been cleared.

Even above the din of the vehicles, the explosions, the blaster and slug fire. The raucous cry of the Galidraani could be heard as Reed's men assaulted further up hill. It was the bare minimum of adrenaline spiking reassurance he needed to push him that final step to bloodlust.

"FOR THE EMPIRE! FOR BASTION!"

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Korriban, Mawite Excavations
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw | Tegan Starfall
Foes: Ashlan Crusade, NIO, GA | Darth Petrichor | Aemilio Valaar

South: The Galidraani Front
​

Toraaz was bleeding freely, for the weapon that had cut him was sharp indeed, but his quick parry had ensured that the wound was shallow. The razor-like blade split skin like a child tearing wrapping paper on Life Day, but it did not sink into the muscle beneath. Were the Cirihut to survive, it would have made an impressive scar, clear proof of a close brush with death. But he would not, and he knew it. NIO war cries came from all sides now, above and below him on the slope, howls of triumph. It was his Day of Dying, as the priests had decreed, and all that mattered was how.

Toraaz almost laughed when Aemilio interposed an arm against the huge two-handed mace; the head of the massive weapon was thicker than both of the officer's biceps side-by-side. But NIO technology was potent, and a blow that should have snapped that limb like a dry twig met its match against the power armor. Certainly there was impact, an impact that reverberated up Toraaz's arms, let alone his foe's. Certainly the metal deformed, and the internal impact absorbers crumpled. But the mace did not punch through and smash Aemilio's head, and that was impressive.

The NIO officer was driven to his knees, his right arm limp... but he had determination that would make a Mawite proud, as they now expected from the Galidraani. As Toraaz hefted his heavy weapon for another downward stroke, intending to smash Aemilio into Korriban's cracked surface like a pile-driver slamming a durasteel foundation beam into place, his foe struck with that razor-sharp blade once again. On the uneven slope, there was nowhere for the Cirihut to go; he couldn't leap back, couldn't maneuver to either side far enough to escape the long slash. He was caught.

The blow was one-handed and swung from the ground, a bad angle. That was not quite enough to sever Toraaz's beefy leg, but it did sink in deep, cutting easily through flesh before becoming stuck halfway through his tibia. Toraaz roared in agony, and the limb collapsed beneath him, dropping him to the sand. Gritting his teeth, he fought through the red haze over his vision, through the waves of pain that sought to immobilize him. His anterior tibial artery had been severed, and that meant he was going to bleed out sooner rather than later... but for now he still had some strength.

The warrior cast aside his huge mace, which he could not swing from the ground, and drew a filthy serrated knife from his belt. With it he stabbed frantically at Aemilio, trying to find the gaps in his armor: ankles, the backs of knees, the leg joints at the groin. These were places that couldn't be too stiff, or the man would be unable to walk. And with the Galidraani officer's sword stuck in Toraaz's leg bone, Aemilio might find it difficult to parry. This was the last, desperate moment for Toraaz, his final attempt to inflict as much violence as he could before the end...

... and to earn his entry into paradise.

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

Northeast: The Petrite Front
​

"Again!" Ajax roared, and the trio of Divine Eagles roared back over the northeastern part of the hill. It wasn't about strategy any more; there was no real point in trying to keep any one of the attacking factions from climbing the slope, because the hilltop had already been reached. The Knyghts kept attacking the Petrite forces for one simple reason: the red-armored soldiers and their black-armored elite didn't seem to have any easy way to hit back. Their discipline - and their lightsabers - had been devastating on the ground, grinding down the opposition, but against starfighters...

They had no cover and no heavy anti-air weapons.

So the Knyghts came on in a third attack run, raking the slope from bottom to top in a crescendo of slaughter. Their beam cannons drew long streaks of glass up the hill of sand, interrupted only where they crossed - and incinerated - bodies. Laser cannons fired freely, and concussion missiles targeted groups of enemies, aimed to scatter them - and, separately, their limbs - far apart. The fighter-bombers would be out of missiles after this run, having expended most of them in the dogfight against the NIO bomber groups, but their fuel levels were still good, their cannons still charged.

They would keep this up until someone stopped them.

 

[Vector Monk]

VALLEY OF THE DARK LORDS
KORRIBAN
Starlin Rand

​

"Inconceivable!"

Pure instinct saved him. Vector had nearly sealed the dazed Jedi within a stone prison when he felt tremors quake through the heavy slab. A career spent evading ancient traps warned the Sith agent to leap aside. He dove clear just as it burst up and tipped over nearly crushing Captain Monk but at the last second he rolled aside.

He barely had time to catch his breath before the Jedi was on him. Starlin lashed out and Vector reached for a blaster that wasn't there for it had been cast aside in arrogant confidence of victory. Instead he dodged, hidden blades raking against his cheek.

"Nobody makes me bleed my own blood," Vector snarled.

Monk grabbed at the Jedi's extended wrist in a teräs käsi maneuver, attempting to use Starlin's own momentum against him and get tossed on his back. He reverse cartwheeled over Vader's grave, gripping stone like a gymnast as he vaulted into a perfect flip. Vector prised an ancient ceremonial sword from the base of the empty throne. He could almost feel the still potent Sith alchemy coursing through its blade and knew from his translations of carved eldritch sigils it would resist the heat of the Jedi's lightsaber.

"En garde!" he twirled the weapon in an elaborate display before adopting a fencer's stance, "Anybody can make history. Only a great man can write it."

 

[Isla Draellix-Kobitana]

​

Location: Korriban system
Faction: Ashlan Crusade
Allies: Caarlyle Rausgeber Zark San Tekka Albrecht F. Herlock Tristan Evore Relynia Sorrene - AC/NIO
Enemies: Tu'teggacha Carnifex - KV-6000 - Marlon Sularen Derix Tirall Aldo Garrick 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

Spoiler: Active Engagements

• • Fatalis fleet
    • Pillar of retribution - Destroyed
    • divine purpose - (Crippled -shields depleted, severe damage to port weapon systems - large hole down port of ship - firing on fatalis- boarded - most boarding battles just mopping up now - most non-essential systems going offline)
    • rapture (taking fire - port shields very low - main bridge destroyed - firing less grouped due to weakened command and control - some weapon batteries down - all fighters launched, significant casualties)
    • Templar 1 (Crippled - loss of most port systems, on emergency power - priority to leave battle via hyperdrive)
    • Templar 2 (taking minor but persistent secondary fire - shields low - minor damage - firing on remaining Crucifix)
    • 6 dominions (switched fire to Fatalis, 3 destroyed, 1 crippled, 2 with weakened shields, Minor damage)
    • 6 principalities (engaging Samael frigates, moving forwards to try and cut down range - 2 defending damaged templar, 2 destroyed - 2 pushing with other templar)
    • 2 wardens - destroyed
    • Phoenix bombers from primary fleet mostly neutralised, only a few squadrons left
  • Eternal rule
    • Fist of Demici (Damage to hangar capability - shields damaged- opening fire - starfighters returning from Eternal Rule - burn and emplacement damage from ram attack)
  • Reserve fleet
    • just arrived from hyperspace, engaging final dawn fleet

On the command bridge of the Mercy's Gift, Isla Draellix looked out of the view port, she held her time piece in her hand, she felt stunned by how little time had passed since the first engagement with the Fatalis. So many dead in such little time, and she felt like nothing had been accomplished. It was such a hollow feeling, there was celebration, no lines of prisoners, now new territory, just a morbid cleanup and rescue of her dead. She waved the medical droid away again, it was threatening to relieve her of duty if she failed to comply, she had responded with a threat to mind wipe it to the shock of her crew. She now stood in silence looking out at her shattered fleet.

"Ashla, please make this all worthwhile" she prayed quietly to herself, before turning back to the crew, "did any of the maw surrender?"

"No ma'am, most of the small fighters are now drifting in space, theory is that they are remote droids, but we will snag a few for study. The larger ones have attacked the corvettes and managed to cripple one of them, it is currently fighting fires but I doubt we will be able to salvage it. The remaining enemy fighters have now gone to hyperspace or have been destroyed."

She hadn't expected much different, the Maw had a lot in common with the Crusade, despite being opposite ends of the spectrum spiritually, she could respect their devotion.

"Very well, keep me informed and continue recovery operations"

She looked at the display of the rest of her reserve fleet, fighting hard but suffering too many casualties for what little they were achieving, one of her star destroyers broke apart in the holo in front of her eyes.

The last engaged ship of her primary fleet was the Fist of Demici, it continued to trade blows with the Eternal Rule.


The Battalion

Out of nowhere approached a CR90 corvette on a collision course, the Fist fired on the tiny ship but it kept coming. Its armoured prow struck the outer shields of the battlecarrier before smashing in to the heavy armour, but the corvette was not made for this kind of combat and its neck crumpled, causing the ship to concertina, absorbing much of the impact meant for the Ashlan capital ship, it did manage to damage the armour, but the damage was mostly superficial. Then the explosives packed on board detonated, causing a massive fireball that scorched the armour plating of the huge vessel, a portion of the blast was outside of the energy shield, causing an almost beautiful pattern as the fireball was cut in half by the shields. Debris littered the outer hull of the Fist and several weapon emplacements had been knocked out by the blast, but the ship surged onwards.

Isla was fuming at this audacious attack out if nowhere by one of the members of the CIS, the two factions had not engaged previously, she worried this would be the beginning of something new.

Aerarii Tithe

From his position within the Hangar he could see the unmistakable silhouette of and Ashlan Frigate with powerful lights searching the hull for signs of life and those that needed rescue. A message being broadcast on known frequencies.

"This is the Naginata to any crew still aboard the Morai, we are here to offer assistance. Please respond"

​

​

 

[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… ] ​

Hope… perhaps one of the worst emotions that exists. In most cases, it just crushes the person. No, she tried not to think about it. And it was also one of the most dangerous weapons in the hands of a regime she led. It could actually be in anyone's hands. Meanwhile, the fight was getting fiercer out there. She looked toward the door, her next words speaking to the place rather than the man.

"What uncivilized behaviour. Even if the enemy planet… only the corrupt, barbarian hordes wreak havoc. Intelligent and civilised societies do not." it was also an emotionless manifestation on her part.

She loved the arts, no matter who did it, that’s part of history. Ingrid came from a culture that is very respectful of tradition. To her, those who destroy historical works of art, heritage, those were corrupt to the core, barbarians and tyrants. That’s why what NIO, GA and AC wanted was sad. It was just brainless, barbaric destruction, nothing more. At the mention of Adekos, she turned her attention to the man once again and nodded.

"Yes, he is!" she replied.

She met the man twice, though she was unaware of the second. The first case was the siege of Bastion, the second when the woman bought IGBC shares. She raised an eyebrow at Petrichor's words for a moment. It was one thing that she felt Adrian’s soul shards, wherever they were in the Netherworld, because she still felt the Force-bond in the Nether, but she wasn’t omnipotent. Or did the man not know how big that place was?

"I hope you know that Netherworld is roughly or exactly the size of the Galaxy. I don’t know your former master, if I knew what Force signature to look for, it might be an easy task, but without it? I have connections over there, we’ll see if I see if they can help."> she offered.

Then she turned toward the empty part of the room, reached into the Force for the Nexus, and began to concentrate. With her hands she began to draw the appropriate symbols in the air and also uttered a few words in ur-Kittât language; what was perhaps interesting was that in spite of all this, the woman's presence in the Force remained neutral.

"Maybe you found it by that I can take you to the Netherworld, thus there you continue your research there."

 

[Cass Gemini]

Cass watches the abandoned frigate from one of the external hatches on her ship, she was clad in a dark red and black EV suit and had a booster pack on her back, her sabers were at her side and she carried a blaster. The Midnight Kyber had pulled up near the rear end of the ship, attempting to breach main engineering and so the fuel systems. Next to her was the powered umbilical that her crew would use, but she enjoyed the view and the peace out here. Thousands upon thousands of miles away in the dark there were flashes as the battle for Korriban continued, and below her the storm clouds gathered on the barren world. But here in between it was so peaceful, a moment of tranquility in her hectic lifestyle.

The umbilical attached and she kicked herself away from her ship, gently floating the twenty or so metre to the other hull. She had worked out that they had about 3 hours before the maw ship lost orbital stability, but this shouldnt take nearly as long as that

She landed with a thud and watched as her crew breached the hull through the umbilical. She stopped for a moment as a corpse floated nearby, its helmet hanging uselessly from its side, clearly the owner didn't have time to don it properly. With a motion of her hand she used the force to pull it towards her. The helmets comm could come in handy as an early warning. Taking it, she discarded the body, the dead need no trinkets.

Pulling out her sabers, she cut her way into the hull and joined her crew in the salvage operation.

​

 

[Starlin Rand]

Vector succeeded in flipping Starlin onto his back, the impact knocking the air from the Padawan’s lungs. Growling, he hobbled to his feet.

The Sith archaeologist’s gymnastics gave Starlin a few seconds to recover and prepare. Flicking Vector’s blood off his claws, he retrieved his lightsaber from where he had dropped it and activated the blue blade. Still a little woozy, Starlin’s pace was lethargic, though he managed to make it look like his lack of urgency was because he didn’t consider Vector much of a threat. Which was true—he could’ve easily cut the smarmy bastard down, if only he were at full capacity…

“Okay ballerina, let’s dance.”

The tomb was beginning to crumble around them, rattled by some exterior expulsion of energy. Starlin nonetheless grinned and mimicked Vector’s fencing stance, lunging forward with his blade. It proved a feint, meant to distract from the sudden, powerful kick he aimed at Vector’s gut.

Vector Monk​

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Korriban System, Drifting Wrecks
Tags: Cass Gemini

The Hollow Heart had drifted far, far away from the spot where the Fatalis had made its escape, and was further still from where the Ashlans were mopping up the last of the Mawite fighters. At such a distance from the fighting, the space around it seemed... peaceful. The violence had moved on, leaving only this slowly drifting corpse of a ship. It floated like a saint in gentle repose, surrounded by a halo of shattered starfighters and the frozen bodies of its crewmen. As long as you didn't look too closely, it was strangely beautiful, like an overgrown headstone above a shattered coffin.

Zero-G salvage was a dangerous business no matter when you tried it. Experienced scavengers disagreed as to whether it was best to salvage a ship "hot", soon after it was wrecked, or "cold", after it'd been drifting for a while. "Hot" ships often had more salvageable parts, but the possibility of volatile fuel in the lines, active power cells and reactors, trapped pockets of atmosphere, or an unstable hyperdrive could easily get a scav killed. "Cold" ships had different hazards, often infested by spaceborne life forms like mynocks or undergoing radioactive fuel and reactor decay.

Of course, most scavs just had to take a ship however they found it.

Cass and her crew were definitely salvaging the Hollow Heart hot. One of the gunnery sections and several of the corridors were still pressurized, trapping pockets of atmosphere. Opening them would be extremely dangerous, since the rush of air could toss around heavy objects like coins in a tumble dryer. Lots of scavs had been crushed that way, losing limbs... or their lives. But breaching the gunnery section could also be very profitable. The Heart's ion cannons were largely intact, with only six of its twenty destroyed. They could be broken down for parts or, if the crew got ambitious...

... they could try to remove the cannons whole, for a bigger payday.

The engineering section, where Cass's crew had entered, was depressurized but largely intact. A ragged hole near the corridor leading deeper into the ship had sucked out the engineers here, but the engines themselves hadn't been hit, and the crew was having an easy time siphoning their coaxium fuel. Of course, they'd have to be careful; coaxium was infamously unstable, and shaking it around too much could easily cause an explosion. That would lead to a chain reaction that would probably rip apart what was left of the Heart... and anyone who happened to be in or around it.

And there was always the possibility that not every Mawite aboard was dead...

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

10TH 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)
24 XT-62 Cataphract Tanks (-8)
11 Scout-AFVs (-2)
10 MLVs
5 Predator Launch-Platforms
2 Guardian Tac-Teams
1 Combat-Engineer/Logistics Squad

GALACTIC MOSHPIT: THE TUATH'S CRUCIBLE XVIX - OLD TECHNIQUES DIE HARD

'Pierce me through the kidney if you want to end me, or shatter the left side of my skull. Sever my femoral artery, and let me remember what it feels like to really bleed. But remember: I'm not as fragile as you.'

The heat was something Gowrie had previously assumed himself well-acclimated to before, spending all his time between deployments in the sun-soaked outskirts of the Archaisian capital city, with Hirkenburg also doing little to shield him from the sun's warmth whenever escaping to the city seemed like a good idea, with his lightly-bronzed, freckly skin showing as a constant testament to that assumption. Making it worse was the throbbing pain in his right hand, with each broken knuckle seemingly begging the Lord-Colonel to stop and switch hands, accompanied by the stinging cuts on his face, head and the fingers beneath the aforementioned knuckles, but Lord Aron knew there were more pressing matters to deal with. Yet none quite so pressing as the sudden attack that was being punched through towards the center of his pelvis from waist height, as the Mawite champion had shown further depth to his fighting intuition in the act of dropping to a supremely well-balanced kneeling stance in the attempt, an attack of which that Lord Aron had no choice but to prioritize complete evasion for.

Cheeky wee-​

Attempting to jump above it may have ended in disaster, attempting to parry it may have resulted in a wide gash opening for the Kellas' guts to spill out, and grabbing the Mongrel's broadsword would both result in a slew of ineffective counters and wound his left hand horribly as a result; quite the surprise in many ways, perceivable or otherwise. All the Lord-Colonel had left at his disposal was backpedalling in the hopes he could keep the majority of the broadsword from piercing his torso, understanding that the intent to stab his pelvis may also have been a feint for somewhere higher on his abdomen in the process, though the back-pacing evasion gave the Mongrel no other choice but to commit to his original intent in the hopes his window to properly cut the Tuath was still open; the next split second would dictate the direction of the fight going forward, and both the Kellas and the Mongrel (though completely unbeknownst to the duellists in that moment) were moving and reacting faster than they had in all of their previous duels, a quickness to which Lord Barran would need to adapt in the event he got a chance to rematch one, the other or both.

Groaning through the pain, Lord Aron would commit to his evasive backpedalling as the Mawite stabbed the wide-tip of the broadsword into the base of the Tuath's gut, still unfortunate enough to feel the sword as it twisted up and slashed across the left side of the skin-and-flesh covering his stomach; non-fatal, but still painful enough to know the Mongrel had scored a genuine cut on him for the first time, a pain that Gowrie realised would only continue to get worse as the fight continued. The time to switch hands had arrived, and with no other choice but to let his left-hand dictate the rest of his fight, the swap outside the Mongrel's reach would dictate the direction of the Kellas' counter-and-escape as his hard-forehand parry gave way to the beginnings of a left-facing lateral escape, paving the way for his own sneaky attack in the process. With the momentous bouncing-impact from the hard forehand parry, Lord Aron then made almost two paces past the Mawite commander when he struck at the outer thigh-muscle on the Mongrel's right leg, low and straight with springy snap as it split open the thigh-guard from top to bottom, playing into the near-whip thinness of the blade's sharp taper as he anticipated the Mongrel's next move.

'Cheers for the tip!'

Making a decision that would surely save his head from joining the Mongrel's growing collection, Aron would take a leaf from the Mawite champion's book and make a hard kneeling drop on the rocks and gravel beneath, grazing the skin through Gowrie's trousers as his head barely ducked under a well-timed backhand slash that had been aimed at-and-through the back of his neck, then sprinting out of range for the last four or five paces of the lateral escape with no idea how close he had come to a quick death. If the Tuath had known how close he had come to death, he probably would've reconsidered switching hands almost instantly, but time was stacking their odds of victory against them both, and there was yet more fighting to be done by the time the battle for Mongrel Hill met it's conclusion. The pain was beginning to burn all across his stomach as sweat seeped into the wound, much like the stinging sensation of the same process on his head and face, but the Kellas would elect to embrace it instead; taking off his coat, his shirt and vest to reveal the new addition to his own collection, a collection of scars from sword-cuts, with the Mongrel's looking set to become the greatest of them all.

'No bad, sur. But as you can see, others have tried and failed to end me in fair single combat. But thanks though, was getting quite stuffy in the auld uniform-coat there. You have great armour, possibly the best in the galaxy for this specific kind of warfare - but what say you to a man who doesn't armour himself, not even at surface-level? What say you to that same man when he reveals he never has? My only armour is the vehicles I bring to the party an' the clothes on my back, Mongrel..... Never really needed it, and if ever I do, it'll be down to circumstances like yours - God an' Sinn'searann forbid!'

Pulling his stims from his jacket-pocket with a near-ceremonious showiness, the Kellas' bruised, swelling right hand half-waved two measures each of painkillers and blood-coagulants in the Mawite's face to signify they had been reserved for both himself and Mongrel prior to being revealed. They knew there was no call for their addition to the fight-dynamic, and both the Mawite and the Tuath had no intention of using either of their doses to aid their survival, but the latter would make a point of dropping all four syringes into a molten crack in the ground anyway, locking them in together and leaving everything up to the hands of fate once and for all. As he turned to gaze on the Mongrel again, Gowrie continued, gritting his teeth to stave off the pain before he exclaimed,'No point now, they're pointless to us at this stage. We don't need stims where we're going - an' if I do kick the bucket, I hope you know I'm taking you with me! Ensuring that both our blades rest nowhere but in our own grasps if we die together!'

'AGAIN, MONGREL!!! ONE LAST TIME - LETS FINISH THIS!!!!'
There's a presence downhill, one who I need to face - so this might be,"Goodbye", mate. Good luck doun there, Aron.

GALACTIC MOSHPIT: THE TUATH'S CRUCIBLE XX - RIOT IN A CRUCIBLE

The archetypal Galactic Moshpit, exactly as everyone imagined it would be.

The world was rattling in it's death throes, and all who remained to fight on Mongrel Hill were in agreement on one matter, all who surrounded the peak's namesake (and all who were defending it) wanted Korriban's destruction, wishing every last trace of Zambrano legitimacy removed from the Tingel Arm with equalling finality across the board. With that elation and fear of seeing Korriban crumbling to death around them, intermingling as these contrasting feelings conjured something new in the tempest of death and destruction, a great restlessness had descended over them like the red, sandy mists that still blew in from every conceivable angle, and the fighting itself would reach a fever-pitch as a result. The Scout-AFVs would be forced into a struggle of their own, shooting at whatever they could with their main guns as the rifles on board acted as the mounted-LMGs' lowly substitutes, all whilst the Galidraani fighting in the center with Captain Reed were doing all they could to carve their way through to relieve the line-splitting AFV-crews and make their next move from there; using their ammunition, their bayonets, trench-shovels, knives and their bare hands to clear the way.

'CAIT'FEADAAAAAACH!!! FIGHT LIKE YER SINN'SEARANN WOULD IN YOUR SHOES!!!! SHOW - NO - MERCY!!!! '​

Hacking, slashing and stabbing any and every Mawite who dared to defend their allies, Alun would find himself covered in blood, ash and sand in the forward-surging melee as the weakened Mawite center tried so desperately to shield their comrades safe from the Commoner-Captain's manic relief-efforts; even with the sensory overload of the battle around them, the combined efforts of the Wildcats and Valaar's contingent were proving to benefit more from the added freneticism than the very denizens of abject chaos the New-Imperials were assailing, somehow adding to the pressure on the defenders as the belligerents downhill continued to pile on their own. Warriors were falling in droves on both sides of the struggle, but the momentum would still be in the Woad's favour, screaming frothy-mouthed obscenities at every brave soul who wished to sacrifice their lives on the edge of Alun's officer-issue rapier; wielded more like an ugly meat-cleaver than a basket-hilted beauty, but nobody from Milton-on-Westcape was ever accused of looking like dandies in combat, and none present would have a mind to mock Captain Reed for his particular brand of brutality.

'YOU!!!! LEFT-HAND MACHETE, AYE - YOU!!!! COME HERE!!!! MY SWORD WANTS A WORD WITH YOUR THROAT!!!'​

Contented knowing the hardest Mawite soldier in the center of the line would be bogged down with the Woad, the bayonet-fitted mob of battered Tuaths would push on in their attempt to relieve the remaining AFVs fighting in the front line, somehow still supremely confident in their Commoner-Captain's abilities, even though that supreme confidence in themselves was still very much in question. Even as they found their way to the AFVs, mowing down and shooting any opposing element they saw, their self-confidence would be nowhere in sight until the very moment they knew the summit had been reached, placing it all on the shoulders of Reed and Valaar as they continued to inflict every last reserve of strength and aggression on the Mongrel's subordinates. Yet the Wildcats' attitudes would take on a whole new flavour, a bloodlusting greed would take hold as the center began to push into the flanks of the Mawites fighting on the left and right, widening the gap for Torayga's men to push through and bolster the line from atop the mounds of corpses behind them, killing everything in sight whilst Reed engaged the Cirihut with the Red Jackal machete.

'READY TO DIE, SCUM?!?!?!?!'

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Darth Mori //:
//: G L I T T E R & G O L D //:

​

Rage screamed in the Force so profoundly that even someone as inept as Allyson could feel it in her bones. Whoever had broken this woman had indeed done what they wanted. Her first thought trailed to Carnifex; at one point, he almost broke the Corellian. Allyson cringed at the words the Sith Lord spat to her; care and compassion were things the spy reserved for a few in this galaxy. No, Allyson wasn’t perfect. She was far from it, and she knew it; on occasion, she wondered if she should still carry the title of Jedi Master.

Mori’s words cut deep into the woman. She had failed not only her padawan but Aradia as well. As the two entities charged each other, she could only think of the small moments she had spent with the acolyte and then trailing to her own padawan. Both followed a path that Allyson wished she had made them feel safe enough to come to her.

No, you abandoned them - numerous times. Her mind echoed back, the voice fading giving way to the flashes of the images Vesta wanted the Jedi to see. They were strong, attached to emotion, and Allyson couldn’t keep them out with her tried and true method. Her mind accepted the reality knowing that it was one of her deepest fears. Allyson had nothing witty to say in response; she knew she had failed them. Instead of wearing herself ragged in searching for them, she filled the guilt and emptiness with pleasure. Brief moments of peace, it was all she was allowed.

She didn’t know when, but instinct took over, and the sparks of the sabers clashing against each other pulled her from the spiraling thoughts. The Force strengthened her muscles as she pressed against the strike. With their blades locked, Allyson was able to see the monstrous face of the Sith. Fear lingered, but she never looked away.

This Sith knew Aradia, and Aradia knew where Zaavik was. Cutting through Vesta meant that she would be able to find Zaavik before the Marshals or the SIA caught wind of where he was hiding. Even if she couldn’t prevent this from happening, Allyson would give her life to protect him.

“I FETHED UP, OKAY?” Allyson pushed against the locked saber, gritting through her teeth as she knew that Vesta was right - but she only saw a part of the story, not all of it. “I love those chuckle-ducks; I wouldn’t be fething here if I didn’t. SO BACK OFF and GET out of my WAY.” Pushing again, Allyson took a moment to slam her head into Mori’s, hoping that something would happen that could throw the Sith off.

She had to find Aradia again; she was the common thread in all of this.​