Annihilation Final Eclipse | GA Annihilation of Exegol

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Archon of the Primyn Group
Empress of Terraris, Supreme Commander of the Terraris Command, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium​

Objective: Survive (?)
Location: Unknown Location, Exegol
Equipment: N/A || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Writing With: Zachariel Steelblood | Closed

[ Incense and Iron ]
<"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Spoiler: story so far

Ingrid #1

Annihilation - Final Eclipse | GA Annihilation of Exegol

FINAL ECLIPSE The Galactic Alliance will annihilate Exegol. // START: FEBUARY 1ST - END: MARCH 1ST // IT ENDS HERE. Valiens Nantaris "How vast a resolve must these people have, time and time again, to face hardship and horror and tragedy and terror, and still take up the mantle of freedom?" -...

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Zach #1

Annihilation - Final Eclipse | GA Annihilation of Exegol

PHASE 1: ADVANCE ON EXEGOL || RED HONEYCOMB ZONE Allies: Aleksandr Stirsea, Ronan Calore (if he shows), Strike Team Tano Enemies: Brotherhood of the Maw | No PC’s until groundside (coming for you, Sahar) There was the briefest moment of quiet before, a sparse few seconds that dragged on for...

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As the crystals cracked, she suddenly began to feel her surroundings much more than before. She was able to absorb the dark energies from the crystals, which until now had been designed to weaken her and not allow her to heal. Although she was gasping for breath, she was getting better. It was like when a patient finally gets on the road to recovery. When someone's senses are deliberately dulled by the doctors after an operation, so that their condition does not worsen, and they only let the patients sense everything normally when they are better. That's why she felt it when Zach approached.

The door soon opened and the woman's lover arrived. She watched as he knelt down and spoke. She wanted to be angry and yell at him. But like before, she was unable to be angry, she immediately suppressed the anger and all such emotions. These would affect her judgement; even as a child she had to learn to suppress them so that she could always think as rationally as possible. She only felt disappointed because of this. She was still capable of this, it did not affect her thoughts.

However, when Zach asked her to say something, she remained silent. Oh, she would have had a lot to say, most of it probably out of temper. She would have happily shouted that he was an idiot and a fool. That she wouldn't have needed his help, that she would have been able to get out without Zach. Which is true, all that was needed was for her to be completely herself and for what is happening now to happen. That she won't accept the sacrifice Zach made for her. Especially not because the man kept getting angry when Ingrid talked about similar self-sacrifice. She wanted to tell him that he was a fool to think that she would let him kill himself on this day.

She also wanted to say that this would not be the first time in her long life that she would see an empire fall, probably the most. If Kyrel Ren kills himself today, it won't end the Sith, the Jedi, or the Force. And that was their real mission, not this. The Sith are reasserting themselves in the southern part of the galaxy. The Maw may be no more, but the plans are. Just as the Avatars will not disappear if the Maw fails today. Religion existed long before and will continue to exist. And right now, Zach was doing exactly what he could never accept in her.

While these thoughts ran through her mind, she regained her strength. She thought much faster than she spoke, so they lasted no more than a few moments; but at least the power gathering was faster due to the fact that the crystals would have already cracked.

Ingrid hated saying goodbye, partly because she didn't let anyone near her, only a few, because she didn't want to see them die. And Zach was about to do just that, one of those few people close to her that she could call a friend.

That's why she didn't say anything for now, her blue eyes showing only sorrow as she turned her head as she reached out into the Force again.

The crystals groaned loudly again and more cracks appeared on them as Ingrid continued to try to break them.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

On the good news, he had discovered who the wildcard was, in even better news, he was not an explicit foe to him if their attack on the incoming Jedi was any indication.

On the bad news.

He was batshit insane.

This seemed to be the pattern for these Mawites, he was warned of such a thing when he took on this mission, those among the Sith Order could be characterised as peculiar to a degree, and even he would admit his own bias in being raised among the Sith Order's own strangeness and weirdness. Yet somehow to an Order considered peculiar, the Brotherhood was somehow even more, still, he was confident that some rational actors would remain, those that had realised that the end of the Maw was incoming, and that would take an offered hand for absolution freely granted. Perhaps they did exist, but so far, the two who he had seen so far were very much torpedoing his willingness to retain hope. Perhaps he was still too naive, to believe that these Sith would look past their pride even in the face of failure and weakness.

But somehow even in giving those considerations those within the Maw seemed a very special type of unhinged, both somehow a mix of unseasonable cold, and a chaotic wild passion, with an ideology that seemed to embrace the self-destructive aspects of the Sith in a manner which treated it as a positive, and of course, there was the religious dogma that reminded him of the Eternalists in a very uncomfortable way.

Huh...

Perhaps they were not so different after all.

Would any of the Sith he knew have accepted the help of the Maw if the Galactic Alliance had turned south rather than east?

His thoughts concluded, as his eyes continued to track the Mawite in front of him, admitting only to himself the unease that went up and down his spine as his ears registered the mad cackle erupting out of her lungs. Was she as insane as he feared most Mawites were? The dark side did much to an individual physically, it was no wonder at some stage it began impacting the mind as well.

Then she spoke, a deep dark thing, a language most had considered long dead, and indeed, the few that he knew still knew it, or at least knew of it, were fellow scholars. Even Motus would not know of it, what was her game then...?

He felt a warmth in his chest, a comforting warmth of a familiar presence that he had felt rarely, but always with joy.

"Your Emperor has no power over me, or this place."

"Your Empire is dust."

Malum blinked, and the familiar voice pervaded his mind, why had the voice of his great ancestor, of the great Darth Marr spoken now?

The ashes within his amulet shined brilliantly, he could feel them shaking, almost as if activated by some unknown phenomena. Ur Kittat, that was the only new variable. Could the amulet truly...?

"The False Emperor has been thrown to the wayside, none of his offspring sit upon the throne either," Malum thought the Mawite's words were interesting, Darth Solipsis had created the Brotherhood of the Maw yes, but did not one of Darth Carnifex's relations now rule the Brotherhood? "Ri Zati Akwasiarsosûta shiyi tuti iasi an ri iwi, rariuj iw jiso ajita wiji wos ri tsosûtura ao." He blinked again, he was not sure it would work, but there it was, as he had thought the words, the amulet had translated and spoke from his mouth.

"Darth Empyrean sits on the throne, the Worm Emperor considered Darth Solipsis too weak to be granted Kaggath, Darth Maliphant was offered no true Kaggath," Why was he speaking in defence of Darth Empyrean? Simple, within the Order he wanted nothing more than the downfall of the man, but outside of it? They could display nothing more than strength and unity, and as Malum saw it, this woman before him was certainly an outsider, and he doubted that was going to change any time soon, "Tsitira Empyrean wiji ant ri tsosûtura, ri Zatka Akwasiarsosûta durijati Tsitira Solipsis tsosûta skysosûtas an tuti satkari Kaggath, Tsitira Maliphant tuti udati ra tinri Kaggath." That was at least confirmation that the amulet was working, it would certainly be something for him to experiment with.

If he survived, that was.

His eyes continued to track the woman, as she walked in a wide arc around him, her lightsaber was not drawn, and thus his was not either, yet every step increased the creeping suspicion that it was more to her advantage than his. Yet, as it stood he was not sure what else to do, the wildcard had launched himself at the Jedi, and only Bogan knew how much time that would buy them, they needed to move to defeat their foes, but that would not happen, not easily at least, if they considered each other their foes.

"Motus, return to the Lochris, await my arrival," Malum whispered under his breath, allowing the droid to begin waddling away, as he presented himself, standing taller and allowing his voice to boom.

"The galaxy will remember how the Maw pounced on an Empire beset on all sides, the galaxy will remember how the Maw disappeared to nothingness while the Sith Empire still lives, we may disappear to dust but we shall return again!" Malum was sorely tempted to draw his blade, rationalising that in all her words, she would respect strength and the willingness to act, the most, but Malum knew he could not win that fight, not quickly at least, the Jedi were minutes, perhaps seconds away, "Is it strength to claim victory over one considers weak? Strength to claim greatness in the defeat of one considers sheep?" He was raised among the Sith, he knew the stories of the Fall as a child, and he knew the history of the Fall as an adult, he knew it was the Imperial rebels that had caused the fall, then betrayal and defeat from all sides, the Jedi moderate and Crusader, Mandalorians, the Eternal Empire, the Galactic Alliance, and yes, even the Brotherhood of the Maw. He should hate them, and he did, but they were only a step to the collapse, not the entire staircase, they were kin, distant, angry kin, ones that would need to be purged and weeded out, but that was better treatment then the rest of the Galaxy would receive, those Mawites purified would be welcome to the Empire, what other option did they have? The Brotherhood of the Maw was drawing its last breath.

He had to raise a tracking brow at the rest of her claims, that the Sith Order feared her wholly, was unable to control her, Witch'ari, Sith'ari, the God of Destruction... was any of it true? Was it all true? He could hear the sounds of lightsaber combat and blaster bolts in the distance. Then came the end of her words, and all he could do was blink again.

Renounce the Sith and join her?

Was that how to gain her on side?

It would be a failure of the mission even if it technically accomplished the objective. He was to bring the Maw remnants into the Sith Empire, not defect from the Sith Empire, and join some Maw remnant.

The sounds of combat grew closer, he resolved to make a decision.

"I am Malum of House Marr, and I would pledge myself to you, however, the Jedi near us must be destroyed for us to leave Exegol," A bald-faced lie, but at least one, that would hopefully have her lend her strength to his, to throw aside this Jedi attack, and allow him time to consider his next move.

Tegan Starfall Val Drutin Corazona von Ascania Jand Talo Dominik Borra

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

The Forbidden District | Exegol
Equipment: In Bio.
Friendlies: The Enclave | GA Elements, etc.
Hostiles: The Maw
Engaging: Ada Infernum

War Pigs​

The city; one of the very few noteworthy points of interest of the Exegol’s barren deserts that stretched as far as the eye could see. Distant blaster fire served to be the herald of the violent clashes erupting between the besieged forces of the Maw and their besetters, all across the various districts and sectors of the rugged urban terrain. Amongst the list of strategic targets, it was imperative the city fell for the further escalation of the ongoing operations on these desolate lands.

Of course, the forces of the Maw too knew of the city’s significance; they fought viciously for the defense of every inch of territory, like the cornered gurrcats they were. They knew the end of days were upon them.

And they had taken measures to ensure it would be a memorable one. With a warm welcome their “gracious” host had greeted them the moment they had deployed from their gunships; although it proved not to be costly for his forces, breaking through the Mawite forces that had enveloped their landing zones was not an easy task.

Although he took each and every step in caution while on his way, and moved amidst the ruins of the battered city, akin to that of a spectre while in anticipation of an ambush behind every corner, a non-negligible portion of his attention was spared to analyze real-time battlefield related data relayed straight to his helmet’s HUD, in order to orchestrate the units under his command.

Although it dulled not his sharp senses, the intensity of the information bombardment he was on the receiving end, would prove more than enough to be dizzying for the untrained.

<”That is correct, Brother Lycos,”> The giant’s voice rang over the comlink with a firm and authoritative tone as he issued orders for the squads of Si’kahya under his command, but it was not at all bereft of the brotherly regard every Mandalorian held for one another. <”Initiate attack protocol twenty-three, and maintain your current attack formation; that Maw artillery must, be silenced.”> he ordered, as he stalked the debris strewn streets of the besieged city, alone, while he made his way to a rendezvous point with one of the squads under his command, before commencing a surprise attack on a nearby encampment.

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

2nd post

-AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY-

WILDCAT_ONE
TRIBAL-CHIEFTAIN OF AN-TUATHA
MAJOR-GENERAL OF WILDCAT DIVISION
SWORD OF THE WINTER

Tags (Friendlies): Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Nukth Kelga'an Primarion Hiperius FN-999 Veyli Xoxtin

Tags (Hostiles): Kyrel Ren Erion Justeene Marlon Sularen Khaostra Devoid

TRIBULATIONS OF THE WILDCATS V: A DEATHLY POGROM - PART 2

Spoiler

SOLIPSIS BEACON-SQUARE, DISTRICT OF THE TITAN,
THE SITH CITADEL, EXEGOL (SUMMER 878 ABY)

'You were on Panatha and later on Kalidan, I remember your name and am grateful for the help you gave to the Eternal Empire and the Galaxy.'​

Even in her humble reply, Eina's majesty was so obvious that Lord Aron didn't even need to look up to feel it for himself, holding to his head-bowed gesture with sword presented as the Ashlan Saint continued,'I would never ask a living person to do anything that would put you or your soul in danger. But the Avatars are coming and that's really why I'm here, Lord Aron. If they come over, it will be my job to send them back to where they came from and where they belong. I trust that they are weaker in this world than in the Netherworld, especially when they arrive. That way there will be a better chance of me, of us returning them.', showing a natural urge of protective benevolence without even so much as trying to impart such intentions in her plans. Not that she could help it, as any act against the Maw's Avatars would be seen as an act of great significance to the corporeal survivors of the battle as it unfolded.

The peoples of all races and affiliations would be fighting it out, worrying about the threats in the smoky mist, but there would be instances when the actions of the Ashlan saviour would catch the eye of a mortal in the struggle - watching on as Eina struck out with cataclysmic power against the old gods of the Darkside.

'I will not ask you for anything, in fact, I will offer my help to you. I'll help protect your people so that as few die as possible, and I'll do my best so that the Avatars can consume as few souls as possible from the Maw's people.'

​

Lifting his head to smile, the Tuath briefly nodded in thanks, replying,'Then I humbly ask that you imbue this blade with enough power to protect you in turn.... No gonnae lie either, I've ay'ways wanted to spit in the face of a false god, though I'm sure I preach to the choir in this regard, eh?', trailing off with a kindly wink as he extended the presented blade towards Ashla's Valkyrie to accept or refuse the mortal's request. Then after letting the choice sit with the Saint for a moment, the Kellas then sought to make the decision easy for her in continuing,'When all is said an' done here the-night, you have three options.... Take the imbuement away, take the sword away, attached though I am to 'er, or-', pausing only to extend the hilt-side towards Eina so the point of the blade itself was pointing directly at the center of his own chest.

'You can take me to the Nether as your third option.... Whichever works best, as I do not wish to presume that a higher authority would allow such power to remain in my hands for long - so I leave this choice with you an' you alone.'

​

After keeping his beloved Sting o' Frost in place held in place for pointed effect, even bowing his head in solemn, dutiful grace, the well-drilled movement of the blade then returned it to it's previous,"Present-Arms", position, still beholden to the intent to leave his mortal fate in the Ashlan's hands. Tired of giving his all for ignobility, for greed and wrathful retribution on former allies, the Kellas was well aware he was making his statement of noble intent, finally choosing to stand in the rays of the light - holding to a greater ideal to beat back the dark tide once and for all.

The world was burning around them, coughing and spluttering it's way through a final death-knell that killed and buried at will, with bombs and monsters swarming at every corner. But even then, the light of salvation appeared to burn brighter than anything else in existence, determining (and by presence alone) that the time to bring the mortals down along with it, extreme though the death and anguish were becoming by then, was due to come to an abrupt end. Every last cell in his anatomy was rising to the unspoken calling, and even in his theologically-apprehensive resistance to the implications, the fact his own body was compelling the Kellas to believe (and in all it's rarity in the grand scale of Gowrie's lifetime) was enough to let the Tuath's inner-gambler finally have his say.

'Don't shoot, Sapper -- this is Marchal! This scumbag is finally alive, DAMN ANAXES!'

'Oui, but of course! Lucky the Tuaths are wild enough to keep this scumbag alive at least, huh?'
​

Breaking into a lively dance in clear sight of his peers, jumping shamelessly into a classic two-step in jester's showiness to show that no such wounds or injuries had befallen their roguish friend in the momentary disarray. Most of the other sappers would be amused, the others would shrug it off and move to return to their duties, but it was enough to let the Lieutenant know he was ready to keep fighting, and perhaps readier than most with their unfavourable predicament considered.

'*Vous vous débarrasserez pas d'moi aussi facilement, bande d'abrutis! You send a swarm in, and I bet you'll find me walking out from the pink mist, wiping blood and dust from my face.... This is our way, and we all know I learned this as a Private in the First Battle of Nirauan. You know the story, I've told it often enough already, so act accordingly - all of you!'

*"You silly bastards can't get rid of me that easily!"

Despite his faults, his traits and eccentricities, everyone present would need no reminder of the man went above and beyond his means for every last Sapper who served with him, even the officers serving above his meagre non-commissioned rank of Sergeant, as all were worthy of surviving just a little longer in this accursed war. Some had even served long enough to remember the lasting hurts felt throbbing in the psyche of the Empire for longer, recalling the great pains that followed the end of the Third Imperial Civil War, but even then, none from that generation could doubt the bravery and the empathy of the drunken stalwart either. 'Glad you're still with us, mon ami.', one of the Corporals drawled with a fist-over-heart salute, holding to his gesture until he finally broke the silence,'So what are your intentions this time, Marchal? Dare I even ask?', curiously awaiting the unexpected with smirk nearly stretching out ear to ear.

'Well, I'm leaving with the Major-General.... Helping fortification efforts everywhere I go, its an urban battle now after all, so it matters little as to how small said fortifications are wherever I end up - I'll fix whatever I find and offer instruction regardless. All that know-how goes with me, as it does with you and every other sapper here.'

Distant booms could be heard by then, but these had not thumped into the ground to reverberate all the way to the soles of the Yinchorri boots, and though they waited and timed it almost exactly, (by way of the learned intuition of those who acclimated to battlefields in real-time) no such pulsations arrived to shudder the bones of their feet, and it was only then that they realised it was all happening in the skies instead. But when everyone turned to see what was happening, all would find themselves shocked, but pleasantly this time, a shock within a shock - a development of which could only give way to varying extremes of celebration.

It wasn't explosions or crashing corvettes, but rather, the sounds of multiple dropships breaking through Exegol's lower orbit, and it was all landing craft from the Major-General's planned Phase2 assault-wave.

'And besides, someone needs to build a solid command-centre for them while I put work in elsewhere.... Do I have your permission to proceed, Lieutenant?'

 

[Michael Barran]

2ND POST

-AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY-

CAIRN_ONE
RINGLEADER OF THE PELLAEONIST CLIQUE
WARDEN OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
DRUID-GRANDMASTER OF THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD

Tags (Friendlies): Siyndacha Aerin Aoki-Barran Mira Sahar Simon Meinrad

Tags (OPFOR): Khaostra Devoid Marlon Sularen Erion Justeene

BORN OF BRIGHT STARS VII: DANCING WITH THE DAMNED - PART 2

Spoiler

WESTERN COURTYARD, INTERNMENT ZONE,
THE SITH CITADEL, EXEGOL (SUMMER 878 ABY)

'Something tells me it's going to get a little spicy this time, perhaps even Tython-spicy - good job we landed close to the action.... Makes it easier to bug out when if we complete our objective, though I dare say that's the only certainty we can rely on here.'​

'Hmmm, you don't say,', Sahar quipped under her beath, though much to the expectations of the other Knights there, Lord Michael's Goidelic ways had him appreciating the quickness to chirp, especially in such settings like Exegol in it's final hour. A good thing in everyone's view, as it was always a good day when Imperials could put political enmities aside for the common,"Us Against Everyone", consensus, and especially between the pioneering emergent New-Imperial ideologies, cooperating to devastating effect on any and all opposition whenever the Felists and the Pellaeonists found common cause in the Crucible.

Well, with Sahar an' Simon joinin' the festivities....
I must admit I certainly feel jus' that wee bit safer havin' them around.
​

Though the imposition of telepathic restraint was still in place, it didn't stop the Woad from using his mind in ways that were far less harmful in comparison, most notably the technique used to sense all the souls in proximities near and distant, and with an equalling effort on which all the Imperials around Lord Michael would happily rely. Every last one of the Imperial Knights deployed to Exegol possessed this ability in some form or other, but since the most-recent telepathic matters considered, it seemed that Barran had grown more proficient in other techniques as a result of the most recent surge in power, even though it seemed to have no effect on his combat abilities whatsoever. And by then, there was no real way of knowing if his fighting prowess had improved in any other means of discernment either, though the Woad couldn't doubt he had been training a lot lately, especially after his near-death encounter against the Atrisian Jedi Master on Neshtab.

If I am to fight that one again in the future, I must be ready.
Readier than ever.
​

Ashina was one matter, but surviving Exegol's Crucible would be another entirely, requiring a different sort of warrior to prevail over forces altogether more barbaric than anything conjured from machinations on Coruscant.

<"There is a high amount of Maw activity coming from the Citadel's northeastern halls. I fear something is amiss. If there are too many coming for your location, it could jeopardize the rescue mission. Permission to investigate and act?">

<"Permission granted, but be tricksy about it if you can.... If you can swing around their expected path, perhaps damage can be done to the impetus of their advance - enough that the Shamans and the other knights here can leave our mark. An' besides, we're all at the ready here, poised to play our part. Safe as we're ever likely to be out here.">

<"Affirmative. I will be there before you can say 'Meiloorun.' ">​

Though fortunately, with Simon and Sahar on hand, Michael's small party of Force-Wielders would have all the raw power they needed to make a greater impact against all the monsters and freaks who dared to face the Empire's brightest flames; and many were lying in wait, patiently poised for their quarry, not knowing they were preparing to strike out at the executors of their doom. Some of those monsters would stand much taller than the others, and with the Felist caste there on hand to pack the more destructive punches, the safety factor was certainly present to invite hubris, though the Order of Imperial Knights were always too wise to allow such errors to jeopardize the lives of their peers.

​

And certainly not whilst deployed to Exegol, and of all planets to slip up on - there wasn't a single living Imperial who would have made such mistakes in the Imperial Knights' shoes.

'No room for error here then, conserve power until the imperative compels you.... That goes for you as well, Simon. Though with that being said, I'm still glad to have you both here with us, but I'd like it to stay that way, not so many of us around as there were before - an' we'll no doubt be feelin' that pressure before long.... Watchwords - caution, cunning.'

​

 

[Thomas Barran]

2ND POST

-AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY-

THE_BLOODHOUND
TRIBAL-WARLORD OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARDEN OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
GRANDMASTER OF THE TRI-LUNAR CLIQUE

Tags (Comrades): The Mongrel Keilara Kala'myr Ardana Vorco Ronar Erion Justeene
The Grunt Armand Narrdrenn Kyrel Ren

Tags (Enemies): EVERYONE BUT THE HORDE!!!! JOIN - OR PERISH!!!!

CLASHING SHADOWS II: FORTRESS OF DARK SAINTS - PART 2

SUMMIT'S CLAW, MT. CERBERUS,
NORTH ARRUA PROVINCE, MAR'ZAMBUL (SUMMER OF 878 ABY)

'Now hold on jus' a second! So you're tellin' me they're holed up in the District of the Titan noo?'​

One wheeze of mirth, just one was needed to set off an entire swathe of drunken Marauders in their own fits of laughter - and it was the Bloodhound who started it.

'How's that even possible? War shouldn't be so funn- I can't!'​

The latest development certainly made that night's entertainment all the more worthwhile to keep watching, and the boost in morale it would give the Bloodhound's best and most-brutish warriors would be nothing short of staggering, even in their latest drunken state; even whilst in their howling state of hilarity, the urge to endeavour the impossible was clear to see in everyone there, the desire to make the Galaxy flinch once again. And yet, despite the unfavourable predicament of the siege-force, there were enough blaster-trails and explosions within the embattled district that the Scar Hounds still knew they'd be in for a supremely thrilling night ahead, enough that everyone knew they'd be watching for the entire duration after that.

[INCOMING MESSAGE]​

'I'll be back in a minute, jus' got some comm-link matters to deal with - enjoy the show!'

A serious demeanour had been adopted in the process of trying to focus, but just as the Warlord was about to make his exit, something caught Barran's eye.

'What's this? A brother of the Undying caste - snacking as he enjoys the show! What is it, popcorn? Lemme see.... No way, man. How'd you find that? Plunder scrapyards, on one of the ships I'm guessing.'

If it had been cursory, (or even slightly ashamed) Thomas would likely have chuckled and shrugged it off, but in seeing the emphatic, near-proud nodding and the act of offering some without any shame expressed in the slightest, it was enough to floor the Woad as the laughter took control in response. It would take a while to rise from the floor, but even with ribs hurting, Thomas was eventually able to wave everyone off as they all cackled in celebration without him, letting their Warlord deal with his comm-link matters somewhere quieter whilst they all watched events unfolding on Exegol.

It was enough that they were all happy for a change, enough to build on in the following days, weeks and months of preparation.

The walk towards the main gate of the cave-entrance was somewhat quiet, and with little more than salutes and gestures of respect by those on guard duty at the time, the Bloodhound would be given plenty in the way of breathing-space to himself to think on what the Matriarch's message would contain; giving Thomas some cause to mentally prepare himself for whatever was recorded specifically for his sake, there was every reason to think it could have been of grand nature at both sides of the same frightening contrast, with no expectations landing anywhere between. It was always either great relief or great pain, and never anything else, though much to the impending surprise of the Woad, an entirely new form of extreme would await the simple press of a small, circular button.

Aw'right then, Barran.... Brace yersel.​

With the gate opening inward towards him, the snow and the biting cold breeze of the mountainous wilderness met the Bloodhound's one remaining eye before the full moon, rising in wait just a few paces later, calming the would-be Khan a little more in the process of embracing the cold, heavy-weighing atmosphere of the world outside. It was but one single moon over Mar'Zambul, and certainly it's own individual wonder though it was, the glow it gave off reminded the Bloodhound of the three moons orbiting Rhigar, and enough to send shivers all over his nervous system and back again. A rush so narcotically potent, so intoxicatingly strong that the Woad was little more than a victim to the upward rolling of his left eye, enough that even Barran's phantom right eye was felt rolling in it's empty socket - sensed like a phantom pain but to uncomfortably-vivid extremes of faux-functional sensitivity.

Time to get this rollercoaster started.
Get it done, Barran.

Click​

<"Once you get this message, you won't be able to stop it. I know, I promised that I'm trying to stay strong, I'm trying to fight, but I can't anymore. It doesn't work, not without him. It's time to say goodbye, Thomas, we won't see each other again. I don't know how today will end, whether I will survive or not. Whatever the outcome, I will not be going back to Mar Zambul again. Either way, I'll be with Asher, with my husband.

You can find the sword you made for him in my apartment, I didn't bring it with me, I won't take it to him. It's yours, you're the leader of the tribe. I'm currently here on Exegol, I found someone to help me free the twins and then take me to the Netherworld to find my husband. I contacted Manifold not so long ago, he will help me with this. I didn't initiate you because I didn't want to put you in danger. Thank you for everything you have given me since his death.

Don't worry, I won't kill your father, I won't go after him. I don't care anymore. Nothing in this world means anything anymore. I find no joy in anything, everything just reminds me of him and that Asher is no longer with me. The pain and the void caused by his absence is not getting better, it's just getting more painful and worse every day. I love him, Thomas, and I can't live without him. I tried it but it didn't work…

I… I let him down, him and the Tribe again. I'm sorry! And as a farewell, I owe you one more confession that you never wanted to hear. About him. On the day of his death, you asked me to preserve his memory for the Tribe, I asked if you want to hear the reality or the myth. You wanted the myth, but today I will also tell you the reality. I don't care if you turn off the recording at this point because what you are going to hear will be too painful.

He died for me, he died because he wanted me to be free and wanted me happy, and he thought that as long as he was alive it wouldn't happen. It was our dream, we yearned for it, to leave the Maw, to go away from war, death and everything and live somewhere in peace, maybe even start a family somehow. On one of the previous missions, years before, he suffered severe brain damage and lost his body. No one cared about him, and he, locked in the tank, lost all faith, since the Maw did not let him die, they always saved him. He just wanted to die, before we got to know each other better.

At first it was just an addiction, like a drug addict, he longed to be able to feel again, feel the world through my telepathic power, and I was attracted by his rank and success. However, we started getting to know each other, it turned out that we have more and more things in common. We began to enjoy each other's company outside the battlefield. We wanted to give more and more to each other, we became friends, confidants from simple and twisted lovers, then we fell in love with each other, and became soul mates.

He shared all his secrets with me because he knew I was the only one who didn't want to gain power through him, who didn't want to use him. I never asked him to promote me or give me power. That's why I've always been in the shadows. I watched over him and the Scar Hounds from the shadows. I took care of him, trained his mind, which slowly began to heal. His joie de vivre, his cheerfulness returned. And the man behind the Warlord's guise was a completely different person.

We were just like any other couple. We secretly had joint programs, we watched movies and series. Through MANIAC, we went to exhibitions and read about mechanical innovations. There were times when we would just walk and talk for hours, while everyone thought I was just reporting to him; as his best agent. We installed and fixed machines together. He has a very good sense of humour, is polite, kind, gentle but a strong leader. In our minds, where he was in his old form, we actually lived together. Everything was like in reality, the mind palace gave me a great opportunity for this, and the fact that I have such abilities. We had a normal life in secret.

As his mind healed, he began to dream of a future with me. We have often dreamed of what life would be like outside the Maw. With the healing, he was able to learn telepathic things and tricks and was able to take on a normal physical form in our common mind palace. Our minds melded and a relationship was formed like the Force dyad, only without the Force. As he strengthened and healed, the work of Taskmaster and the Heathen priests weakened. After they captured him, they tried to kill and erase his old personality, but this personality also began to recover. Kallan, that's what they used to call him, before the Maw… and Kallan also woke up. But Kallan was a simple speeder mechanic, he couldn't stand what Asher was doing…

I kept the two personalities separate for a long time so they wouldn't fight each other. During Kallan, he fell in love with Keilara, my original personality. There were four of us, two couples each. The acts of Taskmaster and Heathen Priests are reversible. We ended up getting married, me to Asher and Kallan to Keilara. But Asher couldn't stop, he would have found everything so pointless. I asked him to run away, to make everyone believe that he died on Tython, but he didn't…

He went to Tython to die and save me. At that point, he was no longer interested in the Maw, the Avatars, or the Scar Hounds. The Mongrel died before our fleet reached Tython, only Asher was there when we landed. And your father killed him… he killed him who no longer wanted war, only a peaceful life with me. He wouldn't let them draw the runes on me… he saved me as much as he could. And I saved him as much as I could as well. I broke the runes on his armour, in the Force, although I am not Force user or sensitive, and ripped him out of the ritual. He died a free man, who regretted not listening to me, who didn't want to die in the end, but to go and run away and live with me. He died a free man, no longer bound by the Maw or the Avatars.

And I failed again, I couldn't save him. I was able to save Kallan from his mind, he is still alive, here in my mind with Keilara. But I didn't have enough time to save Asher. In the last moments, we created an alternate life, a life that would have happened if he had listened to me. We spent sixty years together in that life, a long, happy life, with the twins, with a family, before he disappeared from my mind, leaving only emptiness and pain behind. "I am all yours!" These were the last thoughts and feelings he conveyed to me…

This is the truth about him, he is the meaning of my life, the other half of my soul. I hope this makes it easier to understand why I have been the way I am since his death. You wanted his legacy to live on. From now, not only do I know what kind of person he really was, but so do you. He was a good and decent man who was forced to do many atrocities by the chains and brainwashing of the Maw and he is the perfect example of how to break free from the captivity and chains of the Maw and the Avatars. They didn't get him… he was free. And I will seek him, to be with him.

Farewell Thomas, take care of yourself!

Mercy out!">

'Rollercoaster indeed....'

Thomas was expecting worse, expecting to be on the receiving end of the tribe's undoing, as he had with much of the latest chapters in the Scar Hounds' saga by then; but in understanding that it wasn't relief either, becoming something greater entirely in the Bloodhound's mind, the unbridled joy soon bubbled so close to the surface that the new sensation he was feeling was altogether quite obvious to articulate by then. From there, the rushes gave way to tears, real and phantom alike, burning at the full heat of life-affirming ecstasy, a newfound reason to fight harder than ever. However, much like with most things opposing great agony, the great wonder always found some form of grounding within the happiness, instilling a bit of mirthful warmth at the least-expected moment. And from the mouth of the Bloodhound, the chuckle almost sounded childlike in it's tone, enveloping the one-eyed Woad in a shroud of warmth from head to toe, allowing Barran to revel in the wonder more fervently for a while.

Mercy.... Didn't think you had it in you, or at least, not to this extent.
Amazing, truly.

<"Dreamer.... Go over to Camp Crucible, you will find something of great importance in the Matriarch's quarters. I want you to bring that item back directly to the Trifold Spire - an' not a word will be spoken to a single soul on the matter.">

<"Understood, Lord Bloodhound.... Consider it done. Dreamer out.">
​

Whether the Woad believed or not, he had to be sure the Mongrel's Greatsword was resting in Mercy's former nursing-quarters, but in keeping to his self-obligations of secrecy, the need for sending a trusted friend in his stead was getting in the way of Barran's need to scream his elation into the skies and clouds around him. But with the assured discretion of the Chiss-born Darkhan, the Warlord could finally focus on the wondrous implications of his Matriarch's actions, and the raw, erratic need to roar with victorious, primordial fury onto the plateaus and ridges below; and in that brief moment of windy, blizzard-casting silence, Thomas savoured every last second of it, taking his sweet time in the process of inhaling his fill of cold, clean air.

'HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGH!!!!!'
​

From the very pit of his stomach, rising up through his chest and out with an intensity that boomed in it's echo across the skies beyond, Thomas roared with every last ounce of strength his voice could muster - a howl that resonated so forcefully the guards at the gate believed it to originate from the hidden, primordial depths of the Bloodhound's soul.

However, little did the Warlord know at the time, but there was one other in the Galaxy who roared like that.

Rebirth.... Bring your sisters home - To Mar'Zambul.
​

It was time to respond to Mercy, Thomas was ready after all, but the true majesty of the moment had brought him to his knees, raising arms to the moon in the purest reverence to the greatest planner of all. Rebirth always had a hand in the sequence of events that led to Barran's greatest triumphs and defeats alike, and Rebirth always had a hand in the inner-workings of the tribe, bringing the rag-tag collective together in solidifying cohesion, silently forging the most destructive Tribe in the Galaxy - and long before the prophesied resurrection of the Bloodhound at that.

Making it ever so clear as to what could retain enough power to make zealots of the ravenous, as to who could care enough in her quiet plans, as to who he suspected was in league with the Matriarch from the start, if not later. However, that was the only way to explain how the luck of the Marauders had turned so viciously in favour of their survival, their dominance within the Brotherhood of the Maw, and the only conceivable way everything culminated in the last days of Exegol in the end. But the last task remained, and the only thing left that the bloodhound needed to endeavour for the sake of everyone who mattered, as much as it pained him to step up and set the last act into motion, was to send his last reply to one he learned was the tribe's saving grace after all.

<"Sister, Mercy.... Its - Thomas.... No Bloodhound, no Warlord, no titles, no pomp.... An' no animosity, none whatsoever! An' here's why; if what you say is true, then you may just have saved the entire tribe as well as my Mentor's legacy. Thanks to you, we may have just won the Shadow War. An' thanks to you, we may yet find the will to raid again, but I would make that such a raid that none would forget it.... You're a genius - an' you don't even know it.">

<"Truth be told, neither did I.... Always assumed you despised me, until I learned you didn't. Always assumed you wished to murder my Mentor someday, until I learned you hadn't - funny how things work out like that, eh?">

<"Jus' - jus' do me a favour.... When you finally defeat the Taskmaster, send a message to every aspect of my master - be it Kallan, Asher, or the Mongrel you all left behind, all must receive my message - thank you for understanding, thank you for helping me learn to fight again.... Now go an' slit that Ebruchi's throat for me, aht's yer final order. Barran out.">

 

[The Manifold]

The Taskmaster's stronghold was buried deep, its tunnels burrowed so far into Exegol's crust that even a concentrated orbital bombardment would not have reached them. Located in the middle of the planetary wasteland, beneath a featureless plain that looked exactly the same as ninety percent of the planet's surface, it was almost impossible to find unless you already knew where it was. The elevator was so well concealed that searchers could walk across it without ever knowing it was there. But not these two.

Mercy had been here before, already knew the coordinates. And The Manifold had Tu'teggacha's scent in the Force.

When they had descended for dozens of kilometers, whooshing downward into dank depths kept unpleasantly warm by the heat of the planet's mantle, the turbolift doors finally slid open. Utter darkness greeted them, the darkness of a place that has never seen the sun, where living things were not meant to walk. Tu'teggacha had turned out the lights, though not as a deliberate choice - all the power in the facility was now flowing to his makeshift Otherspace gate, with none left for anything else.

Even the recycled air was slowly running out, the stronghold's life support systems denied the power they needed.

The Manifold focused, and the glow of their six burning eyes intensified, becoming purple-teal beacons in the dark. The eerie light soon suffused their entire metal body, illumination leaking out of every joint in their armor, revealing the metal corridor that Mercy faintly recalled from her escape. They were close now. The Manifold had overridden the turbolift's security, enabling it to take them all the way to the bottom of the facility, not far from the Taskmaster's most protected sanctuary.

Now they just had to make it through his final guardians, and they would be able to confront him.

Mercy began strongly, unleashing the terrible power of her psychic scream. Thanks to her warning, The Manifold shielded their multifaceted mind, holding back the attack. The Ebruchized ahead of them in the tunnel were not so fortunate. They had no mental defenses, for they had practically no minds - only half-developed brain tissue that had been mangled by the rushed cloning process. Throughout the tunnels, many of them simply slumped over, blood running from all of their misshapen orifices.

The Manifold led the way past their twitching corpses, drifting silently up the shadowed corridor.

In front of the final door, reinforced with heavy magna-locks and countless layers of digital security, the Omni-Drone paused. Even with their considerable technomantic powers, getting this door open was going to take some time. "Our Request: Guard Us," The Manifold told Mercy, reaching out with one gauntleted hand once more. "Time Needed: Two Minutes." It was a rough estimate, but likely accurate. This door could withstand point-blank explosions and the efforts of the most skilled of hackers...

... but before the divine technology engineered by Omni, it was only a temporary inconvenience.

---------------------------------
​

~ I promise, ~ Kallan told his wife, holding her tight within the mental construct they shared. Soon, if everything went well, they would be able to touch each other in the real, physical galaxy. ~ I don't want to die, Keilara. I've lost enough. I want my second chance, and I want to spend it with you. ~ They were so close to the better life they'd dreamed of, the fresh start they'd talked about over all this time trapped together in a borrowed mind. They had come so far. They must not fail now.

Kallan felt Mercy detonating the bomb of mental energy that was her psychic scream, felt the effort of that powerful attack as it flowed out of her. He only had limited strength to give; he was a guest in her body, with no energy of his own beyond the flickering light of his disembodied soul. But if he didn't help, there was a good chance he would never be able to change that. So Kallan freely shared what he had to give. He sent up his reserves of mental fortitude, giving Mercy back some of what she'd used up.

He squeezed Keilara's hand as the tiredness seeped into him.

He wasn't afraid to give. He knew that she would never let him fall.

~ I know you'll take care of me, ~ he told her. ~ I'm not afraid when I'm with you. ~

Keilara Kala'myr​

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Secret Prison Facility, Exegol
Tags: Keilara Kala'myr

Before he could truly manipulate the minds of others, Tu'teggacha had needed to master his own.

The Taskmaster threw up an instinctive mental shield as Mercy's psychic scream flew at him, letting the spears of telepathic energy shatter against his barrier like icicles falling onto duracrete pavement. He had been inside her mind, had drawn out the Mercy personality and allowed it to push down the identity of the NIO agent that The Mongrel had captured; he knew how to defend against her attacks. If she wanted to defeat him, she would have to do better than that.

Of course, he would be no match for her in physical combat. If she reached him, he was in trouble.

The Ebruchi hadn't been the actual target of her mental attack anyway. He sensed the Ebruchized dying all around him, dozens of them hitting the ground as their brain tissue liquefied. His successfully-cloned navigators cried out, burbling in pain and shock, but did not fall. They had better-developed minds, and though they had been hurt, they had not been destroyed in the way that their insane cousins had. They were still in the game. The portal was still opening.

A more subtle attack came next. The voices of children echoed in the Taskmaster's head, voices that promised retribution, that told him he had wrought his own downfall. "Impossible," the Ebruchi burble-hissed, shaking his rubbery head to clear it. He looked over at the nanny droid that held the twins, and he saw only ordinary babies in those mechanical arms. They were special, certainly, but they were still infants. This must be another of Mercy's tricks, trying to distract him.

"They are within my power," Tu'teggacha reassured himself. "They cannot defy me."

Focusing his attention, the Taskmaster redoubled his mental shields, fighting to shut out all external voices. He did not have to defeat these attacks, only keep them back until he slipped through into Otherspace. The mangled hyperdrive powering his spacetime rift glowed brighter, hungrily consuming all of the vast facility's power, and a sudden coldness swept through the room - the coldness of a dead dimension, the awful mirror of Realspace. The portal loop began to shimmer.

But his enemies were close now, too close for comfort. He could sense them on the other side of the door to this very chamber, attempting to gain entry. "Send in the Palatini," he commanded, and his Ebruchized bowed and obeyed. The Pontifical Palatini, the last of the great Mawite honor guard trained by Darth Solipsis himself, sociopaths steeped in the Dark Side and enhanced with vile combat drugs... they had long served as Tu'teggacha's bodyguards, his final layer of protection.

Behind Mercy and The Manifold, new lights appeared in the darkened corridor - the lights of three crimson lightsabers. They illuminated the black and red armor of the Taskmaster's most elite and dreaded soldiers, unrepentant killers who would not hesitate to hack apart any threat to their overseer. They moved as one, well-trained in fighting side-by-side. Two of them moved to come at Mercy from the left and the right, while the third approached her head-on, fearless and deadly.

They were a blur of saber blades, rushing to destroy her while the Omni-Drone was distracted...

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Lightpoint station, Observation deck
Allies: Maw
Enemies: Jedi, Sith, Valery Noble Kahlil Noble



Kyrel was a master duelist, as he had faced foes time and time again. He wasn’t concerned with facing two opponents at once. Instead he found it to be something of a challenge he relished. While his quick grapple of Valery had knocked her off guard, she continued to keep coming at him with incredible speed. He recognized the quickness of Ataru compared to his Djem So, and his fiery eyes would switch back and forth between her and that Jedi Husband of hers. Still when he had finally broken free of his icy prison, and his lightsaber was recalled into his hand he saw the Sword coming at him again. This time the Force was guiding her quick movements leaving only seconds for him to react.

When she had charged again this time with one hand he started to block her strikes. The clash between the unstable crimson against her luminous purple would cause a flash of light, and sparks to fly. As she tried her efforts to find an opening in his attacks he reverted back into a Soresu shield to protect himself from her blade, and as it was so effortlessly to bounce her strikes off with his own saber. This has only caused Valery to keep coming at him with each parry he had done to her stroke.

When Kahlil finally made his move to join the battle, Kyrel would grip his saber with both hands. His Djem So stance mirrored the father of his training in the form of Darth Vader, remembering his early days of self teaching studying old holograms of the fierce Sith Lord. Valery kept up her viscous onslaught each time she kept getting pushed back she would only increase the intensity, and now with two Jedi facing against him Kyrel couldn’t rely solely on a one handed approach to enforce his brute strength.

He would stare down the two of them showing off his scowl, as his jaw opened up to show the hatred he had for the both of them. In this moment he watched as Kahlil made the move of a falling avalanche strike, a move he knew all too well. At the same time Valery was making another strike towards him both of them moving in tandem at the same time. He truly hated this dyad in the Force. Kyrel would meet Kahlil first with his blade raised horizontally to block the falling avalanche strike. This would cause the red and green blades to meet in a shower of sparks and light in a blade lock. At the same time Valery was inches away from landing her blow against him causing Kyrel to react quickly. He eased the two handed grip back into one leaving a hand free, and while gritting his teeth attempted to break the lock with Kahlil by using his brute strength to push his saber towards him and to send Kahlil flying back momentarily. Just as Valery’s blade hoped to touch him within seconds he would use his free hand to use the Force and stave off her incoming saber strike as of trying to freeze her in place.

With Valery at the focal point of his rage he let out another roar. “Raagh!” Going back to his two handed grip on his saber he would try to press forward attempting to use a flurry of power strikes to try and knock her off balance this time switching up from the defensive to the offensive. His saber swinging wildly as he attempted to close the gap with his brute strength in hopes of overwhelming her with what little time he had before Kahlil would strike once more.

 

[Katja Javik]

THE EMPIRE
IMPERIAL SPECIAL FORCES
Enemies: Galactic Alliance | The Sith Order | Brotherhood of the Maw | Corin Trenor
Allies: The Empire | Ashlan Crusade | Eternal Empire
Equipment: In Bio​

There were no thundering footsteps as the troopers stepped onto the barran land. It was no uncertainty that the battle ahead would be drawn out and none were in a rush to die. They remained cold and collected as the faceless entities of the formerly expansive Empire, disciplined in their movement as each began to fall in with their respective squadrons.

Their missions had been pre-determined. Their orders were clear: any bearing allegiance to the Alliance, the Sith or the Maw were enemies and were to be treated as such. It was not a simple order by any means given the complexities of war, particularly when common enemies were present among the cohort, but it was an order nonetheless.

While some of her own held personal grievances towards those who sought to persecute them, Katja only had apathy, having not been slighted by any Jedi, Sith or otherwise and no tragic history by which to seek vengeance. She acted with no more motivation than a conduit, allowing a certain amount of disconnection from the oftentimes questionable orders she followed.

Each squadron split into smaller pairs for while they had the same objective, it was not one that could be achieved in sheer numbers, not yet. As she and her partner approached the Forbidden District after a few minutes of walking in silence, a glimpse of a familiar weapon caught her attention among the ruins of the desolate world.

Instinctively, her blaster was raised and trained in the direction of the Jedi, drawing the other trooper's attention to their adversary for the first time.

"If we leave him alone, he might leave us alone." He suggested, hesitant to raise his own weapon in the hope that unnecessary conflict could be avoided to ensure the maintenance of their overarching objective.

"Orders are orders." She replied, firing the first shot - a warning, or depending on perspective, an invitation to engage. He may not have been in their mission path but he was a threat that needed neutralising regardless.

Her companion was quick to raise his weapon in support once it was clear that dissuasion was not possible. Neither felt particularly threatened with several of their allies nearby but neither were overly experienced in fighting Jedi either. They would soon realise whether or not their faith was misplaced.

 

[Romund Sro]

Exegol Phase 1
Tag: Jasper Kai'el

Romund had paid attention to how the young Jedi as he sheathed his blade and drew their own lightsaber. Perhaps Romund had done more to break apart Jasper's own dueling prowess than he had originally thought. The duo have now dropped their respective solid weapons in favor of lightsabers, not by choice though, and more out of necessity.

Red and Blue glows filled their respective sides of the corridor as Jasper took on a fencing posture, not too dissimilar to Romund's. A seemingly shared wisdom between the two of them falls back to makashi, the contention form. Unfortunate for Romund as if he had a better understanding of Djem So it could make for a much more powerful technique to utilize his size and strength. But the Dark Jedi did not have this muscle bound body that Jasper saw before him for very long. Not enough to fully utilize it.

For Romund he felt a searing pain still lingering from where the radiant claymore had cut him. The cut on his chest as well as where his arm was severed burned. Hurting like something was eating away at him. Likely the very alchemical enhancements that kept his body together, something the blade was forged to defeat. Nonetheless internally a simmering pool of negativity and dark side energy was beginning to swell up in Romund.

Hearing the Jedi declare that it was Romund's move he locked eyes with Jasper after their bow and advanced towards them. With his size he had better reach, however, he also needed to attack at a more awkward angle. Flicking his near weightless red blade towards Japer's own blue blade, Romund wanted to knock their weapon and thus defense to the side. After the quick hiss of the blades making contact he then attempt to follow up with a quick horizontal slash across Jasper's upper body.

 

[Valery Noble]

Exegol
Lightsaber | Outfit
Battlegroup Kenobi

​

There it was, her opportunity to strike him down.

A powerful blow from her husband had drawn the Master of Ren into a blade-lock, and with every bit of speed she could muster, Valery closed the distance in an attempt to end this clash before it could escalate. But in a feat of amazing strength from the Wrath, he managed to free one hand from his lightsaber and used it to telekinetically halt Valery just enough for him to escape her violet blade.

She gritted her teeth and quickly held a tight two-handed grip on her weapon, as Kyrel shifted his focus against her. Having lost her speed, Valery retreated into a more defensive stance and focused on parrying his power-driven attacks to give Kahlil time to attack from the rear or turn the Force against their enemy. But Valery was not the type to remain defensive, so in an attempt to free herself of his onslaught, she leaned back in an attempt to dodge a wide-sweeping strike.

His crimson blade still managed to barely graze the skin of her cheek, drawing some blood and sending her back a step, but Valery saw an opening. She pressed forward and channeled the Force to augment her strike before she forced him into another blade lock. But this time, it would not last very long.

The bond between her body and the physical world changed abruptly, as she phased through the Master of Ren, hoping to turn his forward momentum against him and cause him to stumble or fall.

Now!​

Kahlil was already aware of this plan through their bond, so now it was up to him to deliver a follow-up attack to bring down the Master of Ren, or at least weaken him enough to make his defeat follow soon after.

Kahlil Noble Kyrel Ren ​

 

[Kralmus Orr]

​

Location: Exegol, Hon Zduul Plateau
Engaging: Silhana Cadera

Spoiler: TL;DR

• Kralmus assumes Silhana is dead, and becomes depressed that it was so easy to kill her

​

Standing alone beside his cooking bonfire, Kralmus Orr stared into the cloud of dust that his missile had kicked up. He lowered his blasters, their barrels smoking from the heat of repeated fire, and took a few steps forward. Exegol was dark at the best of times, the heavy clouds in the perpetually-ashen skies mostly blocking even noontime daylight, and he had no functional sensors to aid him in tracking his prey. He squinted into the shadows a while, trying to pick out any signs of movement, but saw none. He didn't hear anything, either - nothing but the distant crack of thunder and the howling of the cold wind. Was it over? Had he blown Silhana apart?

"Hmmm," the cannibal said, sitting on a relatively-flat rock beside the cooking pit. "That was... surprisingly unsatisfying." The savage glee seemed to flow out of him like water from a punctured tank, leaving behind only emptiness. Kralmus had always gotten his enjoyment from getting up close and personal with his prey. He would have enjoyed watching Silhana's terror as he lowered her gravity-trapped body into his fire, savored her screams as she roasted to perfection. He would also have enjoyed fighting her hand-to-hand, pitting the considerable melee arsenal he'd brought against her and striking her down in a satisfying spray of gore. But this?

Just blowing her up from a distance, scarcely two minutes into their encounter, felt like a hollow victory.

Kralmus sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Life is just a series of disappointments," he mused, a sad little giggle escaping his cracked lips. "Can't burn the galaxy at the head of a barbarian army. Can't watch the light slowly leave Pinkie's eyes. What's the point in living if I can't have any fun?" He could go gather up whatever little scraps of Silhana had survived the missile, he supposed, but it hardly seemed worth the effort to cook and eat them - the explosion had done all the work, so the taste could only be a letdown, like birthday cake gone stale. And what was the point in gathering a trophy? The Maw was going to end here. He'd have nowhere to put it.

Was this what depression felt like? This hollow sensation? This lack of motivation to do anything?

Sighing again, Kralmus holstered his blasters. He looked up at the sky, imagining that he could see the stars beyond - stars that were even now full of conflict, with the combined forces of the rest of the galaxy descending on the last remnants of the once-great Brotherhood. When the Maw had been at its peak, the sinister heathen priests of the Dark Voice had preached of the great cycle of War, Death, and Rebirth. They had claimed the Brotherhood would bring renewal by fire to the galaxy, burning away the stagnant old regimes that had dominated known space for thirty thousand years. But they'd failed in the end. What did the galaxy look like, after all their efforts?

Jedi and Sith. Republic and Empire. The same stories playing out over and over, a new cast reading old lines.

"We did have some good times," the mad cannibal reflected. "Killed billions. Blew up planets. Shattered empires."

He took off his helmet and tucked it under one arm, staring into the flickering firelight. "Just a shame about this... anticlimax."

 

[Aeris Lashiec]

Objective ??? - rant and be obnoxious
Location: Lightpoint Station

Death always begot more death and a shadow once cast could not be destroyed. To cast a brighter light did little but dim the shade and shift it around endlessly. Purity was a foolish endeavor, but Aeris had not been part of whatever council meeting had decided upon this equally foolhardy and brave measure. To her it didn't seem right to wipe this place even if it represented the antithesis of everything that she stood for.

To her Tython was an eye, and this was the other eye paid for in kind. In literary works it was often prophesied that vengeance was a fool's game sought out by those blinded by their hatred. Jedi were supposed to be above that — above anger, hatred, and fear — and to shine as examples and ideal role models. And yet there was little that could be said about any of this that seemed to be anything other than revenge and the perpetuation of an ideological blood feud that had torn a hole through her own beliefs.

Asmundr was aware of her opinion on this. He knew all too well that she would keep the facade up if that was what was required of her, but deep down she was hesitant. For as wise as she was there was still an undying naivete and hope inside of her — innocence one could almost call it.

When it came to fight and flight she had always been one to flee rather than stand her ground and fight if she could help it. So why was it that she was here? Why was it that she felt a need to be present when something that risked going against all of her ideals? Perhaps to some extent she hoped that she could still talk people out of this, but that time had already long passed. Maybe it was to find like-minded individuals, or maybe — just maybe — she wanted to be present in order to embrace death should this all go horribly wrong so as to not have to live with the guilt of her inaction.

This was no Mass Shadow Generator and the planet below was no Malachor V, but the semblance wasn't lost on her. If they were about to damn a whole people to hell, be they good or evil, she wasn't sure if she knew quite how to handle that. Only the coming hours would truly be able to tell if her conscience could live with whatever outcome they faced or not.

 

[Aoki-Barran Mira]

Aoki Mira, or Mira Lettee Aoki.
Imperial Knight of the Empire.
Michael Barran's Shadow.

Tags: Michael Barran Erion Justeene Sahar anyone else I'm forgetting.

The group of eleven were off. Down the dangerous halls, where more monsters waited. Turning to one of many halls, the group was struck with the appearance of a new creature. - or was it? Had Aoki seen something like it earlier? A blue creature with red eyes, strangely reminding Aoki of the Chiss, but with multiple eyes, and tentacles flailing all over its face. Its language was unintelligible, with chittering and blabbering that was feral and deranged. But before anyone could shoot, they all made eye contact with the many eyes in its skull. And the gibberish because ten times worse, forcefully shoving itself into every corner of the mind. All privacy torn away, there was nothing but that screeching and clicking. Shoving its way in, with no hiding from its presence.

One Highlander even dropped his weapon, the effects were so severe. While still able to hold Hazukashi, Mira lifted and hand and held her head, gritting her teeth. The violation her brain was getting to her. And yet, she faintly remembered the times she had frozen in the past. Her aunt... her uncle... and now, she had Highlanders just as frozen as herself.

She refused to let them down.

She felt like her mind was melting into goo, pummeled endlessly by the barrages of mental attacks. But she acted on instinct, letting go of her mind and moving with her body. And it seemed that only a moment later, it stopped. Quiet. Precious quiet! She blinked and looked down, seeing that she had pulled her lightsaber out and was still holding it in poised position. She turned around, seeing that she had moved. She saw the dead creature laying several feet behind her, having received one, expert cut to the head. She deactivated the lightsaber, putting it back on her belt. She was still gripping Hazukashi, having performed the attack with one hand. She looked back to the squadron, panting.

"Are you alright?"

Leaning against the wall, one of the Highlanders panted. Her accent slipped out as her hands shook, still holding her weapon, "Oi, I never want to experience that again!"

Another still held his head, shouting in his native brogue, "I need a shaman tae clean the bile fae mah heid! It's making my brain go peelie-wallie, so it is!"

Mira smiled a tiny smile at that. They were alive, and that was a relief.

"We can bleach our brains once this mission is over. Let us continue."

She then noticed that many of these Highlanders has disruptor rifles on their backs. She paused and asked, "Are you saving those for something?"

A Highlander nodded, "For when they are absolutely needed. Some real nasty monster, if the bloke rears its ugly head."

Aoki nodded firmly and turned around, lifting Hazukashi high in the air as she calmly ordered, "Come."

As the group continued on, they faced more monsters charging through. But, Aoki kept to the front, being a shield for the men behind her. No casualties thus far.

Then, they turned a hall and-

"Aoki, look out!"

WHAM! A blue blur rammed into Aoki and completely knocked her over. Her vision blurred as she heard rapid firing sound off around her. But when she locked eyes on the red orbs of another abomination, the mental attack lashed in once again. It felt like the slimy tentacles of a dark sea creature, writhing and gorging itself into her mind. Then, the ear piercing screams and gibbering from within her skull. She tried to reach for her lightsaber, but the creature's hands grabbed her arm and forced her down. She grimaced, looking up and seeing a humanoid skull with eyes and mouth disfigured and contorted into different positions. And yet, it clicked within that moment.

Chiss?...

"Aye! Someone 'elp the Shadow!"

Aoki realized with a jolt that she heard one of the disruptors going off. Furthermore, was that blood on the left wall new? She gritted her teeth and looked back at the broken clone. She opened her hand then clenched it shut, choking him.

As the chiss clone choked, a blaster bolt flew into his head. Reeling but unharmed, Aoki pushed herself up only to see...

Aoki immediately pulled her lightsaber from her belt, looking over to see a Highlander just pulling out his rifle. "Holy sh-"

An ugly, spiked tongue erupted from the creature's mouth, wrangling the Highlander. Mira lifted her lightsaber and cut down, but even her katana blade simply... bounced off.

As the Highlander's neck snapped, Mira looked down to the ground. One, two, three... nine.

This creature had managed to kill nine! And now, a tenth fell limply to the ground. Mira turned to see a final Highlander, panting in the floor holding one of his brothers in arms. Mira extended her hand, calling, "Run!"

But she felt the wind of the monster running past her, towards him. And it was fast! Mira had top notch reflexes, but even she was unable to move fast enough to stop the final soldier's demise.

"No..."

The monster used its flower like mouth the wrap it's teeth around the dead warrior and start grinding its armor, like the armor was a shell. Mira took a step back, shocked. Despite all her efforts, despite everything! They were dead! All of them! Tears flooded her eyes. Michael! Why did you trust me!

But her thoughts were paused when her heel pressed against a weapon. Mira turned around and saw a disruptor rifle at her feet. She reached down and grabbed it, loaded it. Hearing the noise of more prey, the monster looked up and hissed.

Mira aimed the barrel at the monster. But a doubt. A lightsaber had not worked in this creature. She had heard the disruptors go off earlier. Did they simply miss, or could this creature withstand that as well? She cast the rifle aside and clenched her fist.

The monster charged, but Aoki snapped her fingers first.

This click wave was far more powerful than her last. Whirling blades of the Force tore into the monster, ripping it apart and sending it to the Nether - if it could go there.

Mira was now alone...

Blood dripped from one of the Highlander's helmets.

Mira stood alone. She had been caught off guard, when she should have sensed something in the Force. But now, they were all gone. Mira stood alone.

And it was all her fault.

Spoiler

Equipment:

• Samurai Armor.
• Imperial Lightsaber.
• Hazukashi, naginata pole-arm.
• Fukaikiru, wakizashi shortsword.
• Seijo-Ki, tanto knife.
• Highlander disruptor pistol.
• Auriel Combined Energy Bow.
• Disruptor Rifles.

​

 

[Felix Astermo]

Forbidden District Outskirts - Airfield
Writing With: Thelma Goth​

"Creature," Marrow intoned, his tone mocking. "I am more - than - the chattel."

The ignorant considered carnage bestial, but their perspective was skewed by fear. Who was more of a person, the being in control or the chattel they preyed upon? Marrow had his answer and the prey had theirs.

Twirling his pipe, the Sangnir laughed throatily at her hesitation, a hungry look in his eyes.

"You - can't even - protect yourself." His prowling had not been just for intimidation; the cunning predator sought to control the terrain. In this case, he had turned her around a few times before attacking by swinging his pipe and the piece of wreckage he held in his off-hand - ensuring that the dead GADF scout lay behind her.

Given what Marrow had done to him, he was not just a tripping hazard.

 

[Jasper Kai'el]

Exegol, Phase 1
Engaging: Romund Sro
Nearby Allies: BB-610 , Minerva Fhirdiad , Calix of Thyrsus

​

A first blow came, a horizontal strike with great strength, though not a full commitment to Djem So. It was clear that there was great strain on the man's alchemical body. He was deteriorating. Jasper intercepted the blow with a graceful, fluid motion, redirecting the strike towards the ground with a parry. Makashi struggled against high strength forms, but with enough skill and dexterity of their own, a practitioner of the form could make use of strength themselves, so long as they didn't let themselves be overwhelmed. Jasper had other forms to lean on as well. Unlike Romund, he had the means to utilize Form V. For now though, he would stick to his roots.

Jasper's blow came next, a diagonal slice upwards to sever his exposed arm at the shoulder. His blade was angled to be in front of his arm, a guard should Romund have the time to retaliate. Admittedly, the force behind his blow was not as powerful as it could have been, even with the enhancements of his mechanical arm. The strain of the wound he had sustained was far more than expected. He very likely had torn muscle tenants, let alone the mangled skin. Still, Jasper didn't let this show. His face was shrouded by his mask, the battle meld helped him maintain his focus, and he moved with the same speed and purpose as he would in any other duel.

He could feel a lot in the force, more than he usually was capable of. Other minds linked in with the meld. Friends staring down death, mentors standing against fate, strangers whom he didn't even know. All fighting with every fiber of their being. They needed this ship out of their way, to get to the surface of Exegol and join the initial battle. They needed Jasper to pull through, and all of Strike Team Kenobi for that matter. There could be no mistakes. No do overs. It could cost everything.

The knights resolve only grew. He couldn't lose.

 

[Veyli Xoxtin]

Final Eclipse
Shadow & Bone

Commander of REPTILE BRIGADE​

Interacting with: Nukth Kelga'an DECEASED Aron Gowrie Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
– 878, District of the Titan, Sith Citadel, Exegol

«'Hoped everything would go right,» Gecko muttered while coming closer for his commander.​

Veyli stood up straight, as always. He didn't intend to show his enemies, nor his men, that he had failed or that the situation was hopeless, even if they had no chance to recover after the significant debacle they had just faced. Everything was going bad whereas everything had been supposed to go right before they landed on the Exegolian ground. Gowrie's plan seemed perfect, composed of two major infantry waves, well chosen and dispatched by the Major-General so no problem could occur. They all had underestimated Maw's forces in the region. But even without the Brotherhood, the Alliance was way more present than what Imperials had anticipated during the battle's projection. The Allies wanted to take both the Eternals, the Ashlans, the Mawites and the Imperials down without considering any consequences of this battle. Soon after this skirmish, Order would no longer find a master in this Galaxy, as the Empire had been its ruler since its first days. Even if its military elements had a chance to survive this encounter, politicians wouldn't be able to maintain this already shaky Triumvirat held by Lord-Regent Barran. But all those political stories weren't Veyli's focus for the moment. He had to know how many Reptiles remained operational within the battalions of the 256th after the last battle they led a couple of hours ago.

«Coms seem to be cut, sir. But Battalions one, three, four and seven are still near us. Considering their last known place, the 2nd and 5th Battalions have probably settled in our North so they'll cover us if there's any new assault. No news on the 7th and according to what we know, the 103rd Regiment is still aboard the Whelm II.»

The situation was bad, but the major part of the troops were remaining with their commander and that was a good point to notice. He held all the cards and had now a choice to do, without any piece of news from the Major-General who was supposed to coordinate Imperial moves in the region. «Prepare a team of Scouts with an APC and send 'em to the last known location of Battalion number seven. An' please find me a report about the loss of the Brigade. Otherwise, 'am goin' t'make the men remember why they fight an' why they'll go on.» He held his datapad out to Gecko so he could be hands-free. Doing a few steps to reach a higher point of the trench, Commander Crock stayed straight as possible, facing the many Stormtroopers who were resting in the mud, not ready for a second round, nor for their leader's speech.

«Troopers! Reptiles! Look at YOU! Are you proud of who you are? Are you proud of the way you're standin' in front o' your Commander? Are you proud of the look you're givin' of your Empire to the enemy? You're meant to be defenders of the Order in this Galaxy, unquestioned executors of the master of Power in the many systems under its command! How are you standin' right now? Do you think that's a good way to stand for STORMTROOPERS?! YOU'RE THE FACE OF YOUR STATE! BEHOLD THAT MUD! LOOK AT THIS BATTLEFIELD! STAND PROUDLY AS ORDER'S SERVANT! I DARE SAY -- STAND DEFIANT REPTILES!»​

As the Commander had made progress in his speech, many Stormtroopers, even the ones that couldn't fight anymore had stood up to face their leader and to 'Stand Defiant' as the Empire had always been, even when it was called NIO. Raising his fist, Veyli finally declared: «And as we said through many battles -- MAW DELENDA EST!!!»

The troopers resumed their Commander's words by shouting many «MAW DELENDA EST!» while being busy, trying to make the HQ as efficient and as performant as possible. Satisfied with himself, Veyli took a look at his Reptiles, mentally preparing himself for the disaster that was staying over their head as a sword of Damocles.​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

"We all have to leave someday. I have the luxury of writing the end of my story, and I'm going to take it. I've lived long enough my son." - To Young Braxus

"As long as there is breath in my body, my fate is my own. I will live life on my own terms and If I should fall? Then I will roar into the face of the reaper as he comes to claim me. I will make them pay the price in blood and toil before he takes me." - Young Braxus

He didn't come here to wage war.

The infamous Lord of Lies came with no legion, he bore no armor nor weapons of war upon his person. All that covered him was a simple loose black robe as he stood in the fringes of the throne room. Braxus Zambrano came here instead as a father who came to his childs side in her hour of need. Vesta. She was by his side ever since the death of her mother, and had been one of the dominant focuses of his life since then. Out of all things she was truly precious to him, more than anyone else. But when he heard the words that fell from her lips? The depths of sorrow and darkness that shattered her psyche into this one final choice she was proclaiming to make? It nearly forced the mighty giant to his knees. "Don't do this. My precious child." The giant said emerging from the shadows to see the pair.

"You've always had me, my dearest daughter. You've never stood alone. I have and I always will come for you, as you did me in my darkest moments." Braxus walked towards his daughter and her love then. There was no glowering visage of darkness on his face then, there was only a father caring for his child. "I'm with you until the end of the line Vesta. It's not too late my child. As long as life flows through you, your fate is your own. You have the power to forge your own path in this galaxy, make your own choices. Look at where they have gotten you? Above all others." The words that poured from her fell one after the other and each hurt more than the last. For her to believe that she wasn't enough, that she was merely half a replacement. She never was. The finality in her words cut deeper than any blade, he'd heard that kind of finality before and out of everything in this moment? That was what scared him down to his very core.

"You were never a mere replacement. You were everything a father could want, my child. When your mother faded away. I was prepared to leave it all behind. You pulled me away from the edge. The one thing I had truly created, with both me and your mother. A true child." As the giant closed the distance he simply stared at his child, his heir. It was one of the only times the facade of the so called deceiver had truly fallen, and thought played out seamlessly over his face. "Don't go." He said softly. "I won't watch you do this. I won't watch as I did when the world took your mother from me, and left me behind. As it has so many precious to me over this long life I've lived, constantly punishing me with their memory and the ashes left in their wake. I won't do it again. Stay here. We can face it all, together. I will always protect you."

Vesta Zambrano | Quinn Varanin
​

 

[Darth Temerant]

TAGS: Velda Nar-Donna Brandyn Sal-Soren Cybelle Sal-Soren Briana Sal-Soren Darth Wallgof ​

She was either thoroughly underestimating him or she was buying time. Temerant banked on the former, assuming she did not understand the threat before her. It was then he felt the other force-sensitives in the ship, head veering slightly in their direction. One even seemed familiar, which was odd...

"That's a pretty little speech, pointless as it is," he spoke as he tried to place it. "Lots of adjectives. Do you practice those in front of the mirror? Or take a class, or...?"

ZAP.

Temerant felt the danger before it arrived, and had he seen it coming, he might've been able to do something about it. However, the unusual angle at which the bolt bounced off, coupled by the speed of it all caught him entirely by surprise, the man blasted off the floor. Now, he'd been electrocuted many times before, be it by force lightning or otherwise, and the suit did offer a small measure of insulation, but still, it wasn't nearly enough for him not to feel it, muscles aching as they convulsed. And in all honesty, it sucked no less than every other time.

Well, maybe just a little less than some.

Instincts and training kicked in,the man powering through as he forced himself to follow through with the momentun into something of a summersault, gliding over the metallic floor as he sunk his knee into it, small plumes of smoke coming off of him.

Stupid. He'd allowed his attention to falter and she'd gotten him dead to rights because of it. It would not happen again.

"KSSSSHK...ter... KSSSSHK," X3 tried to come in through the comms, but the bolt had messed with the suit's electronic components, and it'd take a moment for everything to reset, static filling his ears. It was just as well. She'd gone ahead and pissed him off, and he did not want to lose focus.

"My turn," he growled.

Even as he spoke the words, the ship's lights began blowing out, all at once, leaving their section of the ship shrouded in shadow. It took all of a second for the emergency lights' dimmer shine to flood the area... but a second was all he needed.

A red glow ignited alongside them, revealing his dark silhouette much too close to her. He'd closed the distance faster than any man his size had any right to, the incoming stab preternaturally fast as he aimed to disable her right hand -which he could only assume was her dominant, given it had shot the lightning- with a calculated strike to the shoulder.